.MARIA  l>!    I'ADILI.A 
AtLr  the  fjiiitu/x  /'»   I'aul  Gcrcais. 


Inn  alii 


WOMEN  OF  THE  ROMANCE 
COUNTRIES 

JOHN  R.  KFFE;WER,  Ph.D. 

Of  the  University  uf  Michigan 


THE  RITTE>THOUSE   PRESS 
PHILADELPHIA 


|'I:IN  I  El)   IN    r.  s.  A. 


preface 


PREFACE 

NO  one  can  deny  the  influence  of  woman,  which  has 
been  a  potent  factor  in  society,  directly  or  indirectly,  ever 
since  the  days  of  Mother  Eve.  Whether  living  in  Oriental 
seclusion,  or  enjoying  the  freer  life  of  the  Western  world, 
she  has  always  played  an  important  part  in  the  onward 
march  of  events,  and  exercised  a  subtle  power  in  all  things, 
great  and  small.  To  appreciate  this  power  properly,  and 
give  it  a  worthy  narrative,  is  ever  a  difficult  and  well-nigh 
impossible  task,  at  least  for  mortal  man.  Under  the  most 
favorable  circumstances,  the  subject  is  elusive  and  difficult 
of  approach,  lacking  in  sequence,  and  often  shrouded  in 
mystery. 

What,  then,  must  have  been  the  task  of  the  author  of 
the  present  volume,  in  essaying  to  write  of  the  women 
of  Italy  and  Spain!  In  neither  of  these  countries  are  the 
people  all  of  the  same  race,  nor  do  they  afford  the  devel- 
opment of  a  constant  type  for  observation  or  study.  Italy, 
with  its  mediaeval  chaos,  its  free  cities,  and  its  fast-and- 
loose  allegiance  to  the  temporal  power  of  the  Eternal  City, 
has  ever  been  the  despair  of  the  orderly  historian;  and 
Spain,  overrun  by  Goth,  by  Roman,  and  by  Moslem  host, 
presents  strange  contrasts  and  rare  complexities. 

Such  being  the  case,  this  account  of  the  women  of  the 
Romance  countries  does  not  attempt  to  trace  in  detail  their 
gradual  evolution,  but  rather  to  present,  in  the  proper 

vii 


viii  WOMAN 

setting,  the  most  conspicuous  examples  of  their  good  or  evil 
influence,  their  bravery  or  their  cowardice,  their  loyalty 
or  their  infidelity,  their  learning  or  their  illiteracy,  their 
intelligence  or  their  ignorance,  throughout  the  succeeding 
years. 

Chroniclers  and  historians,  poets  and  romancers,  have 
all  given  valuable  aid  in  the  undertaking,  and  to  them 
grateful  acknowledgment  is  hereby  made. 

JOHN  R.  EFFINGER. 
University  of  Michigan. 


jfirst 
Italian  SJiHomen 


of  tt)e  (Eoimtess 
of 


I 


THE   AGE   OF   THE   COUNTESS   MATILDA   OF 
TUSCANY 

THE  eleventh  century,  which  culminated  in  the  religious 
fervor  of  the  First  Crusade,  must  not  on  that  account  be 
considered  as  an  age  of  unexampled  piety  and  devotion. 
Good  men  there  were  and  true,  and  women  of  great  intel- 
lectual and  moral  force,  but  it  cannot  be  said  that  the  time 
was  characterized  by  any  deep  and  sincere  religious  feel- 
ing which  showed  itself  in  the  general  conduct  of  society. 
Europe  was  just  emerging  from  that  gloom  which  had 
settled  down  so  closely  upon  the  older  civilizations  after 
the  downfall  of  the  glory  that  was  Rome,  and  the  light 
of  the  new  day  sifted  but  fitfully  through  the  dark  curtains 
of  that  restless  time.  Liberty  had  not  as  yet  become  the 
shibboleth  of  the  people,  superstition  was  in  the  very  air, 
the  knowledge  of  the  wisest  scholars  was  as  naught,  com- 
pared with  what  we  know  to-day;  everywhere,  might 
made  right. 

In  a  time  like  this,  in  spite  of  the  illustrious  example  of 
the  Countess  Matilda,  it  cannot  be  supposed  that  women 
were  in  a  very  exalted  position.  It  is  even  recorded  that 
in  several  instances,  men,  as  superior  beings,  debated  as 
to  whether  or  not  women  were  possessed  of  souls.  While 
this  momentous  question  was  never  settled  in  a  conclusive 
fashion,  it  may  be  remarked  that  in  the  heat  of  the  dis- 
cussion there  were  some  who  called  women  angels  of  light, 

5 


6  WOMAN 

while  there  were  others  who  had  no  hesitation  in  declaring 
that  they  were  devils  incarnate,  though  in  neither  case 
were  they  willing  to  grant  them  the  same  rights  and  privi- 
leges which  they  themselves  possessed.  Though  many 
other  facts  of  the  same  kind  might  be  adduced,  the  mere 
existence  of  such  discussion  is  enough  to  prove  to  the 
most  undiscerning  that  woman's  place  in  society  was  not 
clearly  recognized,  and  that  there  were  many  difficulties 
to  be  overcome  before  she  could  consider  herself  free  from 
her  primitive  state  of  bondage. 

In  the  eye  of  the  feudal  law,  women  were  not  con- 
sidered as  persons  of  any  importance  whatever.  The 
rights  of  husbands  were  practically  absolute,  and  led  to 
much  abuse,  as  they  had  a  perfectly  legal  right  to  punish 
wives  for  their  misdeeds,  to  control  their  conduct  in  such 
a  way  as  to  interfere  with  their  personal  liberty,  and  in 
general  to  treat  them  as  slaves  and  inferior  beings.  The 
whipping-post  had  not  then  been  invented  as  a  fitting 
punishment  for  the  wife  beater,  as  it  was  perfectly  under- 
stood, according  to  the  feudal  practices  as  collected  by 
Beaumanoir,  "that  every  husband  had  the  right  to  beat 
his  wife  when  she  was  unwilling  to  obey  his  commands, 
or  when  she  cursed  him,  or  when  she  gave  him  the  lie, 
providing  that  it  was  done  moderately,  and  that  death  did 
not  ensue."  If  a  wife  left  a  husband  who  had  beaten  her, 
she  was  compelled  by  law  to  return  at  his  first  word  of 
regret,  or  to  lose  all  right  to  their  common  possessions, 
even  for  purposes  of  her  own  support. 

The  daughters  of  a  feudal  household  had  even  fewer 
rights  than  the  wife.  All  who  are  willing  to  make  a 
candid  acknowledgment  of  the  facts  must  admit  that  even 
to-day,  a  girl-baby  is  often  looked  upon  with  disfavor. 
This  has  been  true  in  all  times,  and  there  are  numerous 
examples  to  show  that  this  aversion  existed  in  ancient 


THE  AGE  OF  MATILDA  OF  TUSCANY  7 

India,  in  Greece  and  Sparta,  and  at  Rome.  The  feudal 
practices  of  mediaeval  Europe  were  certainly  based  upon 
it,  and  the  Breton  peasant  of  to-day  expresses  the  same 
idea  somewhat  bluntly  when  he  says  by  way  of  explan- 
ation, after  the  birth  of  a  daughter:  Ma  femme  a  fait  une 
fausse  couche.  Conscious  as  all  must  be  of  this  wide- 
spread sentiment  at  the  present  time,  it  will  not  be  difficult 
to  imagine  what  its  consequences  must  have  been  in  so 
rude  a  time  as  the  eleventh  century,  when  education  could 
do  so  little  in  the  way  of  restraining  human  passion  and 
prejudice.  As  the  whole  feudal  system,  so  far  as  the 
succession  of  power  was  concerned,  was  based  upon 
the  principle  of  primogeniture,  it  was  the  oldest  son  who 
succeeded  to  all  his  father's  lands  and  wealth,  the  daughter 
or  daughters  being  left  under  his  absolute  control.  Natu- 
rally, such  a  system  worked  hardship  for  the  younger 
brothers,  but  then  as  now  it  was  easier  for  men  to  find 
a  place  for  themselves  in  the  world  than  for  women,  and 
the  army  or  the  Church  rarely  failed  to  furnish  some 
sort  of  career  for  all  those  who  were  denied  the  rights  and 
privileges  of  the  firstborn.  The  lot  of  the  sister,  however, 
was  pitiful  in  the  extreme  (unless  it  happened  that  the 
older  brother  was  kind  and  considerate),  for  if  she  were 
in  the  way  she  could  be  bundled  off  to  a  cloister,  there  to 
spend  her  days  in  solitude,  or  she  could  be  married  against 
her  will,  being  given  as  the  price  of  some  alliance. 

The  conditions  of  marriage,  however,  were  somewhat 
complicated,  as  it  was  always  necessary  to  secure  the  con- 
sent of  three  persons  before  a  girl  of  the  higher  class  could 
go  to  the  altar  in  nuptial  array.  These  three  persons 
were  her  father  or  her  guardian,  her  lord  and  the  king.  It 
was  Hugo  who  likened  the  feudal  system  to  a  continually 
ascending  pyramid  with  the  king  at  the  very  summit, 
and  that  interminable  chain  of  interdependence  is  well 


8  WOMAN 

illustrated  in  the  present  case.  Suppose  the  father,  brother, 
or  other  guardian  had  decided  upon  a  suitable  husband  for 
the  daughter  of  the  house,  it  was  necessary  that  he  should 
first  gain  the  consent  of  that  feudal  lord  to  whom  he  gave 
allegiance,  and  when  this  had  been  obtained,  the  king 
himself  must  give  his  royal  sanction  to  the  match.  Nor 
was  this  all,  for  a  feudal  law  said  that  any  lord  can  compel 
any  woman  among  his  dependants  to  marry  a  man  of  his 
own  choosing  after  she  has  reached  the  age  of  twelve. 
Furthermore,  there  was  in  existence  a  most  cruel,  bar- 
barous, and  repulsive  practice  which  gave  any  feudal  lord 
a  right  to  the  first  enjoyment  of  the  person  of  the  bride  of 
one  of  his  vassals.  As  Legouve  has  so  aptly  expressed  it: 
Les  jeums  gens  payaient  de  leur  corps  en  allant  a  la  guerre, 
les  jeunes  filles  en  allant  a  I'autel. 

Divorce  was  a  very  simple  matter  at  this  time  so  far  as 
the  husband  was  concerned,  for  he  it  was  who  could  re- 
pudiate his  wife,  disown  her,  and  send  her  from  his  door 
for  almost  any  reason,  real  or  false.  In  earlier  times,  at 
the  epoch  when  the  liberty  of  the  citizen  was  the  pride  of 
Rome,  marriage  almost  languished  there  on  account  of  the 
misuse  of  divorce,  and  both  men  and  women  were  allowed 
to  profit  by  the  laxity  of  the  laws  on  this  subject.  Seneca 
said,  in  one  instance:  "That  Roman  woman  counts  her 
years,  not  by  the  number  of  consuls,  but  by  the  number 
of  her  husbands."  Juvenal  reports  a  Roman  freedman  as 
saying  to  his  wife:  "  Leave  the  house  at  once  and  forever! 
You  blow  your  nose  too  frequently.  I  desire  a  wife  with 
a  dry  nose."  When  Christianity  appeared,  then,  the  mar- 
riage tie  was  held  in  slight  consideration,  and  it  was  only 
after  many  centuries  and  by  slow  degrees  that  its  sanctity 
was  recognized,  and  its  rights  respected.  While,  under  the 
Roman  law,  both  men  and  women  had  been  able  to  get  a 
divorce  with  the  same  ease,  the  feudal  idea,  which  gave  all 


THE  AGE   OF  MATILDA  OF  TUSCANY  9 

power  into  the  hands  of  the  men,  made  divorce  an  easy 
thing  for  the  men  alone,  but  this  was  hardly  an  improve- 
ment, as  the  marriage  relation  still  lacked  stability. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  all  the  mediaeval  ideas  re- 
specting marriage  and  divorce  and  the  condition  of  women 
in  general,  which  have  just  been  explained,  had  to  do  with 
any  except  those  who  belonged  in  some  way  to  the  privi- 
leged classes,  for  such  was  not  the  case.  At  that  time,  the 
great  mass  of  the  people  in  Europe — men  and  women — 
were  ignorant  to  the  last  degree,  possessing  little  if  any 
sense  of  delicacy  or  refinement,  and  were  utterly  uncouth. 
For  the  most  part,  they  lived  in  miserable  hovels,  were 
clothed  in  a  most  meagre  and  scanty  way,  and  were  little 
better  than  those  beasts  of  burden  which  are  compelled  to 
do  their  master's  bidding.  Among  these  people,  rights  de- 
pended quite  largely  upon  physical  strength,  and  women 
were  generally  misused.  To  the  lord  of  the  manor  it  was 
a  matter  of  little  importance  whether  or  not  the  serfs  upon 
his  domain  were  married  in  due  form  or  not;  marriage  as 
a  sacrament  had  little  to  do  with  these  hewers  of  wood 
and  drawers  of  water,  and  they  were  allowed  to  follow 
their  own  impulses  quite  generally,  so  far  as  their  rela- 
tions with  each  other  were  concerned.  The  loose  moral 
practices  of  the  time  among  the  more  enlightened  could  be 
but  a  bad  example  for  the  benighted  people  of  the  soil; 
consequently,  throughout  all  classes  of  society  there  was 
a  degree  of  corruption  and  immorality  which  is  hardly 
conceivable  to-day. 

So  far  as  education  was  concerned,  there  were  but  a  few 
who  could  enjoy  its  blessings,  and  these  were,  for  the  most 
part,  men.  Women,  in  their  inferior  and  unimportant 
position,  rarely  desired  an  education,  and  more  rarely  re- 
ceived one.  Of  course,  there  were  conspicuous  excep- 
tions to  this  rule;  here  and  there,  a  woman  working  under 


IO  WOMAN 

unusually  favorable  circumstances  was  really  able  to  be- 
come a  learned  person.  Such  cases  were  extremely  rare, 
however,  for  the  true  position  of  woman  in  society  was  far 
from  being  understood.  Schools  for  women  were  unknown; 
indeed,  there  were  few  schools  of  any  kind,  and  it  was 
only  in  the  monasteries  that  men  were  supposed  to  know 
how  to  read  and  write.  Even  kings  and  queens  were 
often  without  these  polite  accomplishments,  and  the  right 
of  the  sword  had  not  yet  been  questioned.  Then,  it  must 
be  taken  into  consideration  that  current  ideas  regarding 
education  in  Italy  in  this  early  time  were  quite  different 
from  what  they  are  to-day.  As  there  were  no  books, 
book  learning  was  impossible,  and  the  old  and  yellowed 
parchments  stored  away  in  the  libraries  of  the  monasteries 
were  certainly  not  calculated  to  arouse  much  public  enthu- 
siasm. Education  at  this  time  was  merely  some  sort  of 
preparation  for  the  general  duties  of  life,  and  the  nature 
of  this  preparation  depended  upon  a  number  of  circum- 
stances. 

To  make  the  broadest  and  most  general  classification 
possible,  the  women  of  that  time  might  be  divided  into 
ladies  of  high  degree  and  women  of  the  people.  The 
former  were  naturally  fitted  by  their  training  to  take  their 
part  in  the  spectacle  of  feudal  life  with  proper  dignity; 
more  than  that,  they  were  often  skilled  in  all  the  arts  of 
the  housewife,  and  many  times  they  showed  themselves 
the  careful  stewards  of  their  husbands'  fortunes.  The 
women  of  the  people,  on  the  other  hand,  were  not  shown 
any  special  consideration  on  account  of  their  sex,  and  were 
quite  generally  expected  to  work  in  the  fields  with  the 
men.  Their  homes  were  so  unworthy  of  the  name  that 
they  required  little  care  or  thought,  and  their  food  was 
so  coarse  that  little  time  was  given  to  its  preparation. 
Simple-minded,  credulous,  superstitious  in  the  extreme, 


THE  AGE  OF  MATILDA  OF  TUSCANY  II 

with  absolutely  no  intellectual  uplift  of  any  kind,  and 
nothing  but  the  sordid  drudgery  of  life  with  which  to  fill 
the  slow-passing  hours,  it  is  no  wonder  that  the  great 
mass  of  both  the  men  and  the  women  of  this  time  were 
hopelessly  swallowed  up  in  a  many-colored  sea  of  ignor- 
ance, from  which,  with  the  march  of  the  centuries,  they 
have  been  making  slow  efforts  to  rise.  So  the  lady  sat  in 
the  great  hall  in  the  castle,  clad  in  some  gorgeous  gown 
of  silk  which  had  been  brought  by  the  patient  caravans, 
through  devious  ways,  from  the  far  and  mysterious  East; 
surrounded  by  her  privileged  maidens,  she  spun  demurely 
and  in  peace  and  quiet,  while  out  in  the  fields  the  back  of 
the  peasant  woman  was  bent  in  ceaseless  toil.  Or  again, 
the  lady  of  the  manor  would  ride  forth  with  her  lord  when 
he  went  to  the  hunt,  she  upon  her  white  palfrey,  and  he 
upon  his  black  charger,  and  each  with  hooded  falcon  on 
wrist;  for  the  gentle  art  of  falconry  was  almost  as  much 
in  vogue  among  the  women  as  among  the  men  of  the  time. 
Often  it  happened  that  during  the  course  of  the  hunt  it 
would  be  necessary  to  cross  a  newly  planted  field,  or  one 
heavy  with  the  ripened  grain,  and  this  they  did  gaily  and 
with  never  a  thought  for  the  hardship  that  they  might 
cause;  and  as  they  swept  along,  hot  after  the  quarry,  the 
poor,  mistreated  peasant,  whether  man  or  woman,  dared 
utter  no  word  of  protest  or  make  moan,  nor  did  he  or  she 
dare  to  look  boldly  and  unabashed  upon  this  hunting  scene, 
but  rather  from  the  cover  of  some  protecting  thicket. 
Scenes  of  this  kind  will  serve  to  show  the  great  gulf 
which  there  was  between  the  great  and  the  lowly;  and  as 
there  was  an  almost  total  lack  of  any  sort  of  education  in 
the  formal  sense  of  the  word,  it  will  be  readily  understood 
that  all  that  education  could  mean  for  anybody  was  that 
training  which  was  incident  to  the  daily  round  of  life, 
whatever  it  happened  to  be.  So  the  poor  and  dependent 


12  WOMAN 

learned  to  fear  and  sometimes  to  hate  their  masters,  and 
the  proud  and  haughty  learned  to  consider  themselves  as 
superior  and  exceptional  beings. 

With  society  in  such  a  state  as  this,  the  question  will 
naturally  arise:  What  did  the  Church  do  under  these  cir- 
cumstances to  ameliorate  the  condition  of  the  people  and 
to  advance  the  cause  of  woman?  The  only  answer  to  this 
question  is  a  sorry  negative,  as  it  soon  becomes  apparent, 
after  an  investigation  of  the  facts,  that  in  many  cases  the 
members  of  the  clergy  themselves  were  largely  responsible 
for  the  wide  prevalence  of  vice  and  immorality.  It  must 
be  remembered  that  absolution  from  sin  and  crime  in  those 
days  was  but  a  matter  of  money  price  and  that  pardons 
could  be  easily  bought  for  any  offence,  as  the  venality 
of  the  clergy  was  astounding.  The  corruption  of  the  time 
was  great,  and  the  priests  themselves  were  steeped  in  crime 
and  debauchery.  In  former  generations,  the  Church  at 
Rome  had  many  times  issued  strict  orders  against  the 
marriage  of  the  clergy,  and,  doubtless  as  one  of  the  conse- 
quences of  this  regulation,  it  had  become  the  custom  for 
many  of  the  priests  to  have  one  or  more  concubines  with 
whom  they,  in  most  cases,  lived  openly  and  without  shame. 
The  monasteries  became,  under  these  conditions,  dens  of 
iniquity,  and  the  nunneries  were  no  better.  The  nunnery 
of  Saint  Fara  in  the  eleventh  century,  according  to  a  con- 
temporary description,  was  no  longer  the  residence  of  holy 
virgins,  but  a  brothel  of  demoniac  females  who  gave  them- 
selves up  to  all  sorts  of  shameless  conduct;  and  there  are 
many  other  accounts  of  the  same  general  tenor.  Pope 
Gregory  VII.  tried  again  to  do  something  for  the  cause  of 
public  morality,  in  1074,  when  he  issued  edicts  against 
both  concubinage  and  simony — or  the  then  prevalent 
custom  of  buying  or  selling  ecclesiastical  preferment;  but 
the  edict  was  too  harsh  and  unreasonable  with  regard  to  the 


THE  AGE  OF  MATILDA  OF  TUSCANY  13 

first,  inasmuch  as  it  provided  that  no  priest  should  marry  in 
the  future,  and  that  those  who  already  possessed  wives  or 
concubines  were  to  give  them  up  or  relinquish  their  sacred 
offices.  This  order  caused  great  consternation,  especially  in 
Milan,  where  the  clergy  were  honestly  married,  each  man 
to  one  wife,  and  it  was  found  impossible  to  exact  implicit 
obedience  to  its  requirements. 

So  far  as  the  general  influence  of  women  upon  the  feudal 
society  of  Italy  in  the  eleventh  century  is  concerned,  it 
is  not  discoverable  to  have  been  manifest  in  the  ways 
which  were  common  in  other  countries.  It  will  be  under- 
stood, of  course,  that,  in  speaking  of  woman's  influence 
here,  reference  is  made  to  the  women  of  the  upper  classes, 
as  those  of  the  peasant  class  cannot  be  said  to  have  formed 
a  part  of  social  Europe  at  this  time.  It  is  most  common  to 
read  in  all  accounts  of  this  feudal  period,  which  was  the 
beginning  of  the  golden  age  of  the  older  chivalry,  that 
women  exerted  a  most  gentle  influence  upon  the  men 
about  them  and  that  the  honor  and  respect  in  which  they 
were  held  did  much  to  elevate  the  general  tone  of  life.  In 
Italy,  however,  chivalry  did  not  flourish  as  it  did  in  other 
countries.  Since  the  time  of  the  great  Emperor  Charle- 
magne all  Italy  had  been  nominally  a  part  of  the  imperial 
domain,  but  owing  to  its  geographical  position,  which 
made  it  difficult  of  access  and  hard  to  control,  this  over- 
lordship  was  not  always  administered  with  strictness, 
and  from  time  to  time  the  larger  cities  of  Italy  were 
granted  special  rights  and  privileges.  The  absence  of  an 
administrative  capital  made  impossible  any  centralization 
of  national  life,  and  it  was  entirely  natural,  then,  that  the 
various  Italian  communities  should  assert  their  right  to 
some  sort  of  local  government  and  some  measure  of  free- 
dom. This  spirit  of  citizenship  in  the  free  towns  overcame 
the  spirit  of  disciplined  dependence  which  was  common  to 


14  WOMAN 

those  parts  of  the  empire  which  were  governed  according 
to  the  usual  feudal  customs,  and,  as  a  result,  Italy  lacks 
many  of  those  characteristics  which  are  common  to  the 
more  integral  parts  of  the  vast  feudal  system. 

The  most  conspicuous  offspring  of  feudalism  was  chiv- 
alry, with  its  various  orders  of  knighthood;  but  chivalry 
and  the  orders  of  knighthood  gained  little  foothold  in  Italy, 
where  the  conditions  necessary  for  the  growth  and  devel- 
opment of  such  a  social  and  military  order  were  far  from 
propitious.  Knights,  it  is  true,  came  and  went  in  Italy, 
and  performed  their  deeds  of  valor;  fair  maidens  were 
rescued,  and  women  and  children  were  given  succor;  but 
the  knights  were  foreign  knights,  and  they  owed  allegiance 
to  a  foreign  lord.  So  far,  then,  Italy  was  without  the 
institution  of  chivalry,  and,  to  a  great  degree,  insensible 
to  those  high  ideals  of  fealty  and  honor  which  were  the 
cardinal  virtues  of  the  knightly  order.  Owing  to  the 
absence  of  these  fine  qualities  of  mind  and  soul,  the  Italian 
in  war  was  too  often  of  fierce  and  relentless  temper,  show- 
ing neither  pity  nor  mercy  and  having  no  compassion 
for  a  fallen  foe.  Warriors  never  admitted  prisoners  to 
ransom,  and  the  annals  of  their  contests  are  destitute  of 
those  graceful  courtesies  which  shed  such  a  beautiful  lustre 
over  the  contests  of  England  and  France.  Stratagems 
were  as  common  as  open  and  glorious  battle,  and  private 
injuries  were  revenged  by  assassination  and  not  by  the 
fair  and  manly  joust  a  I'outrance.  However,  when  a  man 
pledged  his  word  for  the  performance  of  any  act  and 
wished  his  sincerity  to  be  believed,  he  always  swore  by 
the  parola  di  cavaliere,  and  not  by  the  parola  di  cortigiano, 
so  general  was  the  acknowledgment  of  the  moral  superi- 
ority of  chivalry. 

It  was  in  the  midst  of  this  age  of  ignorance  that  Matilda, 
the  great  Countess  of  Tuscany,  by  means  of  her  wisdom 


THE  AGE  OF  MATILDA  OF  TUSCANY  1 5 

and  intelligence  and  her  many  graces  of  mind  and  body, 
made  such  a  great  and  lasting  reputation  for  herself 
that  her  name  has  come  down  in  history  as  the  worthy 
companion  of  William  the  Conqueror  and  the  great  monk 
Hildebrand,  later  Pope  Gregory  VII.,  her  most  distin- 
guished contemporaries.  Matilda's  father,  Boniface,  was 
the  richest  and  most  powerful  nobleman  of  his  time  in  all 
Italy,  and  as  Margrave  and  Duke  of  Tuscany,  Duke  of 
Lucca,  Marquis  of  Modena,  and  Count  of  Reggio,  Mantua, 
and  Ferrara,  he  exerted  a  very  powerful  feudal  influence. 
Though  at  first  unfriendly  to  the  interests  of  the  papal 
party  in  Italy,  he  was  just  about  ready  to  espouse  its 
cause  when  he  fell  under  the  hand  of  an  assassin;  and 
then  it  was  that  Matilda,  by  special  dispensation  of  the 
emperor,  was  allowed  to  inherit  directly  her  father's 
vast  estate,  which  she  shared  at  first  with  her  brother 
Frederick  and  her  sister  Beatrice.  Generally,  fiefs  re- 
verted to  the  emperor  and  remained  within  his  custody  for 
five  years — were  held  in  probate,  as  it  were — before  the 
lawful  heirs  were  allowed  to  enter  into  possession  of  their 
property.  Frederick  and  Beatrice  were  short-lived,  how- 
ever, and  it  was  not  many  years  before  Matilda  was  left 
as  sole  heir  to  this  great  domain;  she  was  not  entirely 
alone,  as  she  had  the  watchful  care  and  guidance  of  her 
mother,  who  assisted  her  in  every  emergency. 

As  the  result  of  this  condition  of  affairs,  both  mother 
and  daughter  were  soon  sought  in  marriage  by  many 
ardent  and  ambitious  suitors,  each  presenting  his  claims 
for  preferment  and  doing  all  in  his  power  to  bring  about 
an  alliance  which  meant  so  much  for  the  future.  Godfrey 
of  Lorraine,  who  was  not  friendly  to  the  party  of  the  Em- 
peror Henry  III.,  while  on  a  raid  in  Italy,  pressed  his  suit 
with  such  insistency  that  the  widowed  Beatrice  promised 
to  marry  him  and  at  the  same  time  gave  her  consent  to  a 


1 6  WOMAN 

betrothal  between  Matilda  and  Godfrey's  hunchback  son, 
who  also  bore  the  name  of  Godfrey.  This  marriage  with 
an  unfriendly  prince,  after  so  many  years  of  imperial  favor, 
and  this  attempt  at  a  consolidation  of  power  for  both  present 
and  future,  so  angered  Henry  that  he  insisted  that  Beatrice 
must  have  yielded  to  violence  in  this  disposition  of  her  af- 
fairs. Finally,  in  spite  of  her  repeated  denials,  she  was 
made  a  prisoner  for  her  so-called  insubordination,  while 
Matilda  was  compelled  to  find  safety  in  the  great  fortress 
at  Canossa.  In  the  meantime,  Godfrey  had  gone  back  to 
Lorraine,  more  powerful  than  ever,  to  stir  up  trouble  in 
the  empire. 

In  this  same  year,  1054,  Henry  III.  died,  and  his  son, 
Henry  IV.,  won  over  by  the  prayers  of  Pope  Victor  II., 
made  peace  with  Godfrey  and  restored  Beatrice  to  liberty. 
They,  being  more  than  grateful  to  Victor  for  this  kindly 
intervention,  invited  him  to  come  to  their  stately  palace  in 
Florence  and  tarry  with  them  for  a  while.  From  this  time 
on,  in  the  period  when  Matilda  was  growing  into  woman- 
hood, the  real  seat  of  the  papal  power  was  not  in  Rome, 
but  in  Florence,  and  Godfrey's  palace  became  an  acknowl- 
edged centre  of  ecclesiastical  activity. 

Matilda  was  a  girl  of  a  mystic  temperament,  credulous, 
it  is  true,  and  somewhat  superstitious  like  all  the  other 
people  of  her  time,  and  yet  filled  with  a  deep  yearning  for 
a  greater  knowledge  of  the  secrets  of  the  universe.  Her 
ideal  of  authority  was  formed  by  intercourse  with  the 
various  members  of  her  own  circle,  who  were  all  devoted 
heart  and  soul  to  the  cause  of  the  Holy  See,  and  it  was 
but  natural  that,  when  she  became  old  enough  to  think 
and  act  for  herself,  all  her  inclinations  should  lead  her  to 
embrace  the  cause  of  the  pope.  While  it  is  beyond  the 
province  of  the  present  volume  to  describe  in  detail  the 
exact  political  and  religious  situation  in  Italy  at  this  time, 


THE  AGE  OF  MATILDA  OF  TUSCANY  I/ 

it  should  be  said  that  the  pope  was  anxious  to  reassert 
the  temporal  power  of  his  office,  which  had  for  a  long 
time  been  subservient  to  the  will  of  the  emperors.  He 
desired  the  supremacy  of  the  papacy  within  the  Church, 
and  the  supremacy  of  the  Church  over  the  state.  Early 
filled  with  a  holy  zeal  for  this  cause,  Matilda  tried  to  in- 
form herself  regarding  the  real  state  of  affairs,  so  that  she 
might  be  able  to  act  intelligently  when  the  time  for  action 
came.  Through  skilful  diplomacy,  it  came  to  pass  that 
Matilda's  uncle — Frederick — became  Pope  Stephen  X.;  and 
then,  of  course,  the  house  of  Lorraine  came  to  look  upon 
the  papal  interests  as  its  own,  and  the  daughter  of  the 
house  strengthened  the  deep  attachment  for  the  Church 
which  was  to  die  only  when  she  died.  Nor  must  it  be 
thought  that  the  priestly  advisers  of  the  house  were 
blind  to  the  fact  that  in  Matilda  they  had  one  who  might 
become  a  pillar  of  support  for  the  fortunes  of  the  papacy. 
The  monk  Hildebrand,  for  a  long  time  the  power  behind 
the  pope  until  he  himself  became  pope  in  1073,  was  a 
constant  visitor  at  Matilda's  home,  and  he  it  was  who 
finally  took  her  education  in  hand  and  gave  it  its  fullest 
development.  She  had  many  teachers,  of  course,  and 
under  Hildebrand's  guiding  genius,  the  work  was  not 
stopped  until  the  young  countess  could  speak  French, 
German,  and  Latin  with  the  same  ease  as  she  did  her 
mother  tongue. 

Finally,  in  1076,  when  she  was  thirty  years  of  age,  her 
mother — Beatrice — died,  and  also  her  husband,  Godfrey 
le  Bossu.  The  great  countess,  acting  for  the  first  time 
entirely  upon  her  own  responsibility,  now  began  that 
career  of  activity  and  warfare  which  was  unflagging  to  the 
end.  No  other  woman  of  her  time  had  her  vast  power  and 
wealth,  no  other  woman  of  her  time  had  her  well-stored 
mind,  and  no  other,  whether  man  or  woman,  was  so  well 


1 8  WOMAN 

equipped  to  become  the  great  protector  of  the  Holy  Church 
at  Rome.  People  were  amazed  at  her  ability — they  called 
her  God-given  and  Heaven-sent,  and  they  felt  a  touch  of 
mystery  in  this  woman's  life.  Surely  she  was  not  as  the 
others  of  her  time,  for  she  could  hold  her  head  high  in 
the  councils  of  the  most  learned,  and  she  the  only  woman 
of  the  number!  Nor  was  she  one-sided  in  her  activity 
and  indifferent  to  all  interests  save  those  of  the  papal 
party,  as  her  many  public  benefactions  show  her  to  have 
been  a  woman  filled  with  that  larger  zeal  for  humanity 
which  far  transcends  the  narrow  zeal  for  sect  or  creed. 
For,  in  addition  to  the  many  temples,  convents,  and  sepul- 
chres, which  she  caused  to  be  scattered  over  the  north- 
ern part  of  Italy,  she  built  the  beautiful  public  baths  at 
Casciano,  and  the  great  hospital  of  Altapascio. 

Never  strong  physically,  Matilda  was  possessed  of  re- 
markable vitality  and  an  iron  will,  and  she  showed  great 
powers  of  execution  and  administration,  never  shirking 
the  gravest  responsibilities.  A  part  of  her  life  was  spent 
in  the  rough  camps  of  her  devoted  feudal  soldiery,  and — 
weak  woman  though  she  was — she  led  them  on  to  battle 
more  than  once,  when  they  seemed  to  need  the  inspiration 
of  her  presence.  Women  warriors  there  have  been  in 
every  day  and  generation  in  some  part  of  the  world  per- 
haps, but  never  one  like  this.  Clad  in  her  suit  of  mail, 
and  urging  on  her  battle  horse  at  the  head  of  her  followers, 
her  pale  face  filled  with  the  light  of  a  holy  zeal,  it  is  small 
wonder  that  her  arms  triumphed,  and  that  before  her  death 
she  came  to  be  acknowledged  openly  as  by  far  the  most 
important  person  in  all  Italy. 

It  happened  at  one  time  that  the  emperor — Henry  IV.— 
deserted  by  his  friends  in  Germany,  and  excommunicated 
by  the  pope,  found  that  his  only  hope  for  restoration  to 
popular  favor  lay  in  a  pardon  from  his  enemy  and  the 


THE  AGE   OF  MATILDA  OF  TUSCANY  19 

lifting  of  the  ban  of  excommunication.  He  set  out,  there- 
fore, alone  and  without  an  army,  to  meet  the  pope  and 
sue  for  peace.  Gregory,  uninformed  as  to  Henry's  in- 
tended visit  (for  news  did  not  travel  quickly  in  those  early 
days),  was  at  the  time  on  his  way  to  Germany,  where  an 
important  diet  was  to  be  held,  and  with  him  was  his  faith- 
ful ally  Matilda.  When  they  learned  of  the  emperor's 
approach,  however,  the  papal  train  turned  aside  to  the 
nearby  fortress  of  Canossa,  one  of  Matilda's  possessions, 
there  to  await  the  royal  suppliant.  In  the  immense  hall 
of  that  great  castle,  all  hung  with  armor,  shining  shields 
and  breastplates,  and  all  the  varied  accoutrements  of  war, 
the  frowning  turrets  without  and  the  dark  corridors  within 
swarming  with  the  pope's  defenders,  Henry,  the  great 
emperor,  who  had  once  tried  to  depose  Gregory,  was  now 
forced  to  his  greatest  earthly  humiliation  and  was  com- 
pelled to  bend  the  knee  and  sue  for  pardon.  Matilda  it 
was  who  sat  beside  the  pope  at  this  most  solemn  moment, 
and  she  alone  could  share  with  Gregory  the  glory  of  this 
triumph,  for  she  it  was  who  had  supplied  the  sinews  of 
war  and  made  it  possible  for  the  pope  to  impose  his  will. 

On  their  return  to  Rome,  to  insure  a  continuance  of 
papal  success  and  give  stability  to  the  ecclesiastical  organi- 
zation, she  made  over  by  formal  donation  to  the  Holy  See 
all  her  worldly  possessions.  This  was  not  only  an  act  of 
great  liberality,  but  it  was  a  very  bold  assertion  of  inde- 
pendence, as  it  was  not  customary  to  make  disposition  of 
feudal  possessions  without  first  gaining  the  emperor's  con- 
sent. As  it  was  a  foregone  conclusion  that  he  would  never 
give  his  consent  to  this  arrangement,  Matilda  thought  best 
to  dispense  with  that  formality. 

Henry's  submission  was  the  distinct  recognition  of  papal 
supremacy  for  which  Matilda  had  been  battling,  but 
Gregory,  in  his  exactions,  had  overstepped  the  bounds  of 


20  WOMAN 

prudent  policy,  as  he  had  shown  himself  too  arrogant  and 
dictatorial.  In  consequence,  all  Lombardy  rose  against 
him.  Tuscany  soon  followed  suit,  and,  in  1080,  Matilda 
herself  was  forced  to  take  refuge  in  the  mountains  of 
Modena.  Henry,  who  had  regained  in  part  his  power  and 
his  influence  at  home,  descended  upon  Rome  in  1083,  and 
in  revenge  for  his  former  disgrace,  expelled  Gregory,  who 
retired  to  Salerno,  where  he  died  soon  after.  Now  comes 
a  period  of  conflict  between  popes  and  anti-popes,  Matilda 
sustaining  the  regular  successors  of  Gregory,  and  Henry 
nominating  men  of  his  own  choice.  The  long  period  of 
warfare  was  beginning  to  weigh  heavily  upon  the  land, 
however,  and  in  a  solemn  assembly  at  Carpinetto,  the 
friends  and  barons  of  Matilda  implored  her  to  cease  her 
struggles,  but  she  refused  to  listen  to  their  entreaties  be- 
cause a  monk  of  Canossa  had  promised  her  the  aid  of 
heaven  if  she  should  persevere  in  this  holy  war.  Before 
long,  Lombardy,  which  had  long  been  restless,  revolted 
against  the  emperor,  and  Matilda,  by  great  skill  and  a  dis- 
play of  much  tact,  was  enabled  to  arrange  matters  in  such 
a  way  that  she  broke  Henry's  power.  This  victory  made 
Matilda,  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  the  real  Queen  of 
Italy,  though  in  title  she  was  but  the  Countess  of  Tus- 
cany. Then  it  was  that  she  confirmed  her  grant  of  1077, 
giving  unconditionally  to  the  pope  all  her  fiefs  and  hold- 
ings. While  the  validity  of  this  donation  was  seriously 
questioned,  and  while  it  was  claimed  that  she  had  really 
intended  to  convey  her  personal  property  only,  so  am- 
biguous was  the  wording  of  the  document  that  the  pope's 
claims  were  in  the  main  allowed,  and  many  of  her  lands 
were  given  over  to  his  temporal  sway. 

After  the  death  of  Henry  IV.  (1106),  she  continued  to  rule 
without  opposition  in  Italy,  though  recognizing  the  suze- 
rainty of  his  successor,  Henry  V.  In  mo,  this  emperor 


THE  AGE  OF  MATILDA  OF  TUSCANY  21 

came  to  visit  her  at  Bibbianello,  where  he  was  filled  with 
admiration  for  her  attainments,  her  great  wisdom,  and  her 
many  virtues.  During  this  visit,  Henry  treated  her  with 
the  greatest  respect,  addressing  her  as  mother;  before  his 
departure,  he  made  her  regent  of  Italy.  She  was  then  old 
and  feeble,  physically,  but  her  mind  and  will  were  still 
vigorous.  A  few  years  later,  during  the  Lenten  season  in 
1115,  she  caught  cold  while  attempting  to  follow  out  the 
exacting  requirements  of  Holy  Week,  and  it  soon  became 
apparent  that  her  end  was  near.  Realizing  this  fact  her- 
self, she  directed  that  her  serfs  should  be  freed,  confirmed 
her  general  donation  to  the  pope,  made  a  few  small  be- 
quests to  the  neighboring  churches,  and  then  died  as  she 
had  lived,  calmly  and  bravely.  Her  death  occurred  at 
Bendano,  and  her  body  was  interred  at  Saint  Benoit  de 
Ponderone.  Five  centuries  later,  under  the  pontificate  of 
Urban  VIII.,  it  was  taken  to  Rome  and  buried  with  great 
ceremony  in  the  Vatican. 

As  to  Matilda's  character,  some  few  historians  have  cast 
reflections  upon  the  nature  of  her  relations  with  Pope 
Gregory,  their  stay  together  at  Canossa,  at  the  time  of 
Henry's  humiliation,  being  particularly  mentioned  as  an 
instance  of  their  too  great  intimacy.  Such  aspersions  have 
still  to  be  proved,  and  there  is  nothing  in  all  contemporary 
writings  to  show  that  there  was  anything  reprehensible 
in  all  the  course  of  this  firm  friendship.  Gregory  was 
twice  the  age  of  the  great  countess,  and  was  more  her 
father  than  her  lover.  During  her  whole  lifetime,  she  had 
been  of  a  mystic  temperament,  and  it  is  too  much  to  ask  us 
to  believe  that  her  great  and  holy  ardor  for  the  Church  was 
tainted  by  anything  like  vice  or  sensuality.  By  reason  of 
her  great  sagacity  and  worldly  wisdom  she  was  the  most 
powerful  and  most  able  personage  in  Italy  at  the  time  of 
her  death.  If  her  broad  domains  could  have  been  kept 


22  WOMAN 

together  by  some  able  successor,  Italian  unity  might  not 
have  been  deferred  for  so  many  centuries;  but  there  was 
no  one  to  take  up  her  work  and  Italy  was  soon  divided 
again,  and  this  time  the  real  partition  was  made  rather  by 
the  growing  republics  than  by  the  feudal  lords. 

A  consideration  of  the  life  of  the  Countess  Matilda 
points  to  the  fact  that  there  was  but  this  one  woman  in 
all  Italy  at  this  time  who  knew  enough  to  take  advantage 
of  her  opportunities  and  play  a  great  role  upon  the  active 
stage  of  life.  Many  years  were  to  pass  before  it  could 
enter  the  popular  conception  that  all  women  were  to  be 
given  their  chance  at  a  fuller  life,  and  even  yet  in  sunny 
Italy,  there  is  much  to  do  for  womankind.  Then,  as 
now,  the  skies  were  blue,  and  the  sun  was  bright  and 
warm;  then,  as  now,  did  the  peasants  dance  and  sing  all 
the  way  from  water-ribbed  Venice  to  fair  and  squalid 
Naples,  but  with  a  difference.  Now,  there  is  a  measure 
of  freedom  to  each  and  all — then,  justice  was  not  only 
blind  but  went  on  crutches,  and  women  were  made  to 
suffer  because  they  were  women  and  because  they  could 
not  defend,  by  force,  their  own.  Still,  there  is  comfort  in 
the  fact  that  from  this  dead  level  of  mediocrity  and  impo- 
tence, one  woman,  the  great  Countess  of  Tuscany,  was 
able  to  rise  up  and  show  herself  possessed  of  a  great  heart, 
a  great  mind,  and  a  great  soul;  and  in  her  fullness  of 
achievement,  there  was  rich  promise  for  the  future. 


Neapolitan  ffiontt  in  tfje  ®ime  of 
Queen  Joanna 


II 


THE   NEAPOLITAN   COURT   IN   THE   TIME   OF 
QUEEN   JOANNA 

IF  you  drive  along  the  beautiful  shore  of  the  Mergellina 
to-day,  beneath  the  high  promontory  of  Pausilipo,  to  the 
southwest  of  Naples,  you  will  see  there  in  ruins  the  tum- 
bling rocks  and  stones  of  an  unfinished  palace,  with  the 
blue  sea  breaking  over  its  foundations;  and  that  is  still 
called  the  palace  of  Queen  Joanna.  In  the  church  of 
Saint  Chiara  at  Naples,  this  Queen  Joanna  was  buried, 
and  there  her  tomb  may  be  seen  to-day.  Still  is  she  held 
in  memory  dear,  and  still  is  her  name  familiar  to  the  lips 
of  the  people.  On  every  hand  are  to  be  seen  the  monu- 
ments of  her  munificence,  and  if  you  ask  a  Neapolitan  in 
the  street  who  built  this  palace  or  that  church,  the  answer 
is  almost  always  the  same — "  Our  Queen  Joanna." 

Who  was  this  well-beloved  queen,  when  did  she  live, 
and  why  is  she  still  held  in  this  affectionate  regard  by  the 
present  residents  of  sunny  Naples?  To  answer  all  these 
questions  it  will  be  necessary  to  go  back  to  a  much  earlier 
day  in  the  history  of  this  southern  part  of  the  Italian 
peninsula — a  day  when  Naples  was  the  centre  of  a  royal 
government  of  no  little  importance  in  the  eyes  of  the 
mediaeval  world. 

Some  three  hundred  years  before  Joanna's  birth,  in  the 
early  part  of  the  eleventh  century,  a  band  of  knightly 

25 


26  WOMAN 

pilgrims  was  on  its  way  to  the  Holy  Land  to  battle  for 
the  Cross.  They  had  ridden  through  the  fair  provinces  of 
France,  in  brave  array  upon  their  mighty  chargers,  all  the 
way  from  Normandy  to  Marseilles,  and  there  they  had 
taken  ship  for  the  East.  The  ships  were  small,  the 
accommodations  and  supplies  were  not  of  the  best,  and 
it  was  not  possible  to  make  the  journey  with  any  great 
speed.  Stopping,  as  it  happened,  for  fresh  stores  in  the 
south  of  Italy,  they  were  at  once  invited  by  the  Prince  of 
Salerno  to  aid  him  in  his  fight  against  the  Mohammedans, 
who  were  every  day  encroaching  more  upon  the  Greek 
possessions  there.  Being  men  of  warlike  nature,  already 
somewhat  wearied  by  the  sea  voyage  to  which  they 
were  not  accustomed,  and  considering  this  fighting  with 
the  Saracens  of  Italy  as  a  good  preparation  for  later 
conflicts  with  the  heathens  and  the  infidels  who  were 
swarming  about  the  gates  of  Jerusalem,  they  were  not 
slow  to  accept  the  invitation.  While  victory  perched 
upon  the  banners  of  the  Normans,  it  was  evident  at  once 
that  for  the  future  safety  of  the  country  a  strong  and 
stable  guard  would  be  necessary,  and  so  the  Normans 
were  now  asked  to  stay  permanently.  This  the  majority 
did  with  immense  satisfaction,  for  the  soft  and  gentle  cli- 
mate of  the  country  had  filled  their  souls  with  a  sweet 
contentment,  and  the  charms  and  graces  of  the  southern 
women  had  more  than  conquered  the  proud  conquerors. 
Just  as  Charles  VIII.  and  his  army,  some  hundreds  of 
years  later,  were  ensnared  by  the  soft  glances  of  soft 
eyes  when  they  went  to  Italy  to  conquer,  so  the  Normans 
were  held  in  silken  chains  in  this  earlier  time.  But  there 
was  this  difference — the  Normans  did  not  forget  their  own 
interests.  Willing  victims  to  the  wondrous  beauty  of  the 
belles  of  Naples,  they  were  strong  enough  to  think  of  their 
own  position  at  the  same  time;  and  as  the  French  colony 


THE   COURT  IN  THE  TIME  OF  QUEEN  JOANNA        27 

grew  to  fair  size  and  much  importance,  they  took  advan- 
tage of  certain  controversies  which  arose,  and  boldly  seized 
Apulia,  which  they  divided  among  twelve  of  their  counts. 
This  all  happened  in  the  year  1042. 

It  may  well  be  imagined  that  Naples  at  this  time  pre- 
sented a  most  picturesque  appearance,  for  there  was  a 
Babel  of  tongues  and  a  mixture  of  nationalities  which  was 
quite  unusual.  After  the  native  Neapolitans,  dark-eyed 
and  swarthy,  there  were  countless  Greeks  and  Saracens 
of  somewhat  fairer  hue,  and  over  them  all  were  the  fierce 
Normans,  strangers  from  a  northern  clime,  who  were 
lording  it  in  most  masterful  fashion.  The  effect  of  this 
overlordship,  which  they  held  from  the  pope  as  their 
feudal  head,  was  to  give  to  this  portion  of  Italy  certain 
characteristics  which  are  almost  entirely  lacking  in  the 
other  parts  of  Italy.  Here  there  was  no  free  city,  here 
there  was  no  republic,  but,  instead,  a  feudal  court  which 
followed  the  best  models  of  the  continent  and  in  its  time 
became  famed  for  its  brilliancy  and  elegance.  Without 
dallying  by  the  way  to  explain  when  battles  were  fought 
and  kings  were  crowned,  suffice  it  to  say  that,  early  in 
the  fourteenth  century,  Robert  of  Taranto,  an  Angevine 
prince,  ascended  the  throne  of  Naples,  and  by  his  wisdom 
and  goodness  and  by  his  great  interest  in  art  and  litera- 
ture made  his  capital  the  centre  of  a  culture  and  refinement 
which  were  rare  at  that  time.  This  was  a  day  of  almost 
constant  warfare,  when  the  din  of  battle  and  the  clash  of 
armor  were  silencing  the  sound  of  the  harp  and  the  music 
of  the  poet,  but  Robert — //  buon  Re  Roberto,  as  he  was 
called — loved  peace  and  hated  war  and  ever  strove  to 
make  his  court  a  place  of  brightness  and  joy,  wherein  the 
arts  and  sciences  might  flourish  without  let  or  hindrance. 

These  centuries  of  feudal  rule  had,  perhaps,  given  the 
people  of  Naples  a  somewhat  different  temper  from  that 


28  WOMAN 

possessed  by  the  people  in  other  parts  of  Italy.  There 
had  been  a  firm  centre  of  authority,  and,  in  spite  of  the 
troubles  which  had  rent  the  kingdom,  the  people  in  the 
main  had  been  little  concerned  with  them.  They  had 
been  taught  to  obey,  and  generally  their  rights  had  been 
respected.  Now,  under  King  Robert,  the  populace  was 
enjoying  one  long  holiday,  the  like  of  which  could  have 
been  seen  in  no  other  part  of  Italy  at  that  time.  The 
natural  languor  of  the  climate  and  their  intuitive  apprecia- 
tion of  the  lazy  man's  proverb,  Dolce  far  niente,  made  it 
easy  for  them  to  give  themselves  up  to  the  pleasures  of 
the  moment.  All  was  splendor  and  feasting  at  the  court, 
and  the  castle  Nuovo,  where  the  king  resided,  was  ever 
filled  with  a  goodly  company.  So  the  people  took  life 
easily;  there  was  much  dancing  and  playing  of  guitars  upon 
the  Mole,  by  the  side  of  the  waters  of  that  glorious  bay 
all  shimmering  in  the  moonlight,  and  the  night  was  filled 
with  music  and  laughter.  The  beauty  of  the  women  was 
exceptional,  and  the  blood  of  the  men  was  hot;  passion 
was  ill  restrained,  and  the  green-eyed  monster  of  jealousy 
hovered  over  all.  Quick  to  love  and  quick  to  anger, 
resentful  in  the  extreme,  suspicious  and  often  treacherous, 
Dan  Cupid  wrought  havoc  among  them  at  times  most 
innocently,  and  many  a  colpo  di  coltello  [dagger  thrust] 
was  given  under  the  influence  of  love's  frenzy.  But  the 
dance  continued,  the  dresses  were  still  of  the  gayest  colors, 
the  bursts  of  laughter  were  unsubdued. 

The  fair  fame  of  the  court  of  Naples  had  gone  far  afield, 
and  not  to  know  of  it  and  of  its  magnificence,  even  in  those 
days  of  difficult  communication,  was  so  damaging  a  confes- 
sion among  gentlefolk,  that  all  were  loath  to  make  it. 
Here,  it  was  known,  the  arts  of  peace  were  encouraged, 
while  war  raged  on  all  sides,  and  here  it  was  that  many 
noble  lords  and  ladies  had  congregated  from  all  Europe  to 


THE  COURT  IN  THE  TIME  OF  QUEEN  JOANNA       2Q 

form  part  of  that  gallant  company  and  shine  with  its  re- 
flected splendor.  King  Robert  likewise  held  as  feudal  appa- 
nage the  fair  state  of  Provence  in  southern  France,  rich  in 
brilliant  cities  and  enjoying  much  prosperity,  until  the  time 
of  the  ill-advised  Albigensian  Crusade,  and  communication 
between  the  two  parts  of  Robert's  realm  was  constant. 
Naples  was  the  centre,  however,  and  such  was  the  ele- 
gance and  courtesy  of  its  court  that  it  was  famed  far  and 
wide  as  a  school  of  manners;  and  here  it  was  that  pages, 
both  highborn  and  of  low  estate,  were  sent  by  their  patrons 
that  they  might  perfect  themselves  in  courtly  behavior. 
The  open  encouragement  which  was  accorded  to  the  few 
men  of  letters  of  the  time  made  Naples  a  favorite  resort 
for  the  wandering  troubadours,  and  there  they  sang,  to 
rapturous  applause,  their  songs  of  love  and  chivalry.  Here 
in  this  corner  of  Italy,  where  the  dominant  influences  were 
those  which  came  from  France,  and  where,  in  reality, 
French  knights  were  the  lords  in  control,  the  order  of 
chivalry  existed  as  in  the  other  parts  of  Europe,  but  as  it 
did  not  exist  elsewhere  in  Italy.  Transplanted  to  this 
southern  soil,  however,  knighthood  failed  to  develop,  to 
any  marked  degree,  those  deeper  qualities  of  loyalty, 
courtesy,  and  liberality  which  shed  so  much  lustre  upon 
its  institution  elsewhere.  Here,  unfortunately,  mere  gal- 
lantry seemed  its  essential  attribute,  and  the  gallantry  of 
this  period,  at  its  best,  would  show  but  little  regard  for  the 
moral  standards  of  to-day.  No  one  who  has  read  the  his- 
tory of  this  time  can  fail  to  be  struck  with  the  fact  that  on 
every  hand  there  are  references  to  acts  of  immorality 
which  seem  to  pass  without  censure.  As  Hallam  has  said, 
many  of  the  ladies  of  this  epoch,  in  their  desire  for  the 
spiritual  treasures  of  Rome,  seem  to  have  been  neglectful 
of  another  treasure  which  was  in  their  keeping.  Whether 
the  gay  gallant  was  knight  or  squire,  page  or  courtier,  the 


30  WOMAN 

feminine  heart  seems  to  have  been  unable  to  withstand  his 
wiles,  and  from  Boccaccio  to  Rabelais  the  deceived  and 
injured  husband  was  ever  a  butt  of  ridicule.  Of  course, 
there  was  reason  for  all  this;  the  ideals  of  wedded  life  were 
much  further  from  realization  than  they  are  to-day,  and  the 
sanctity  of  the  marriage  relation  was  but  at  the  beginning 
of  its  slow  evolution,  in  this  part  of  the  Western  world. 

But  within  the  walls  of  the  huge  castle  Nuovo,  which 
combined  the  strength  of  a  fortress  with  the  elegance  of  a 
palace,  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  there  was  naught  but 
gross  sensuality.  Court  intrigue  and  scandal  there  were 
in  plenty,  and  there  were  many  fair  ladies  in  the  royal 
household  who  were  somewhat  free  in  the  bestowal  of 
their  favors,  sumptuous  banquets  were  spread,  tourna- 
ments for  trials  of  knightly  skill  were  held  with  open  lists 
for  all  who  might  appear,  but  in  the  centre  of  it  all  was 
the  king,  pleasure-loving,  it  is  true,  but  still  far  more  than 
that.  He  it  was  who  said:  "For  me,  I  swear  that  letters 
are  dearer  to  me  than  my  crown;  and  were  I  obliged  to 
renounce  the  one  or  the  other,  I  should  quickly  take  the 
diadem  from  my  brow."  It  was  his  constant  endeavor  to 
show  himself  a  generous  and  intelligent  patron  of  the  arts. 
The  interior  of  his  palace  had  been  decorated  by  the  brush 
of  Giotto,  one  of  the  first  great  painters  of  Italy,  and  here 
in  this  home  of  luxury  and  refinement  he  had  gathered 
together  the  largest  and  most  valuable  library  then  existing 
in  Europe. 

When  Petrarch  was  at  the  age  of  thirty-six  he  received 
a  letter  from  the  Roman  Senate,  asking  him  to  come  to 
Rome  that  they  might  bestow  upon  him  the  poet's  crown 
of  laurel.  Before  presenting  himself  for  this  honor,  how- 
ever, to  use  his  own  words,  he  "decided  first  to  visit 
Naples  and  that  celebrated  king  and  philosopher,  Robert, 
who  was  not  more  distinguished  as  a  ruler  than  as  a  man 


THE  COURT  IN  THE  TIME  OF  QUEEN  JOANNA        31 

of  learning.  He  was  indeed  the  only  monarch  of  our  age 
who  was,  at  the  same  time,  the  friend  of  learning  and  of 
virtue,  and  I  trusted  that  he  might  correct  such  things  as 
he  found  to  criticise  in  my  work."  Having  learned  the 
reason  of  the  great  poet's  visit,  King  Robert  fixed  a  day 
for  the  consideration  of  Petrarch's  work;  but,  after  a  dis- 
cussion which  lasted  from  noon  until  evening,  it  was  found 
that  more  time  would  be  necessary  on  account  of  the  many 
matters  which  came  up,  and  so  the  two  following  days 
were  passed  in  the  same  manner.  Then,  at  last,  Petrarch 
was  pronounced  worthy  of  the  honor  which  had  been 
offered  him,  and  there  was  much  feasting  at  the  palace 
that  night,  and  much  song,  and  much  music,  and  much 
wine  was  spilled. 

Not  the  least  attentive  listener  in  those  three  days  of 
discussion  and  argument  was  the  Princess  Joanna,  the 
granddaughter  of  the  king,  his  ward  and  future  heir.  For 
in  the  midst  of  his  life  of  agreeable  employment,  //  buon 
Re  Roberto  had  been  suddenly  called  upon  to  mourn  the 
loss  of  his  only  son,  Robert,  Duke  of  Calabria,  who  had 
been  as  remarkable  for  his  accomplishments — according  to 
the  writers  of  chronicles — as  for  his  goodness  and  love  of 
justice.  Two  daughters  survived  him,  Joanna  and  Maria, 
and  they  were  left  to  the  care  of  the  grandfather,  who 
transferred  to  them  all  the  affection  he  had  felt  for  the 
son.  In  1331,  when  Joanna  was  about  four  years  old, 
the  king  declared  her  the  heiress  of  his  crown;  and  at  a 
solemn  feudal  gathering  in  the  great  audience  room  of  the 
castle  Nuovo,  he  called  upon  his  nobles  and  barons  to  take 
oaths  of  allegiance  to  her  as  the  Duchess  of  Calabria; 
and  this  they  did,  solemnly  and  in  turn,  each  bending  the 
knee  in  token  of  submission.  With  the  title  of  Duchess 
of  Calabria,  she  was  to  inherit  all  her  father's  right  to  the 
thrones  of  Naples  and  Provence. 


32  WOMAN 

As  soon  as  she  came  under  his  guardianship,  the  educa- 
tion of  the  small  Joanna  became  the  constant  preoccupation 
of  her  kindly  grandfather,  for  he  was  filled  with  enthusiasm 
for  the  manifold  advantages  of  learning,  and  spared  no 
pains  to  surround  the  little  duchess  with  the  best  pre- 
ceptors in  art  and  in  literature  that  Italy  afforded.  All 
contemporary  writers  agree  that  the  young  girl  gave  quick 
and  ready  response  to  these  influences,  and  she  soon 
proved  her  possession  of  most  unusual  talents,  combined 
with  a  great  love  for  literary  study;  it  is  said  that,  at  the 
age  of  twelve,  she  was  not  only  distinguished  by  her  supe- 
rior endowments,  but  already  surpassed  in  understanding 
not  only  every  other  child  of  her  own  age,  but  many  women 
of  mature  years.  To  these  mental  accomplishments,  we 
are  told  that  there  were  added  a  gentle  and  engaging 
temper,  a  graceful  person,  a  beautiful  countenance,  and 
the  most  captivating  manners.  And  so  things  went  along, 
and  the  old  king  did  all  in  his  power  to  shield  her  from  the 
corrupting  influences  which  were  at  work  all  about  her.  In 
that  he  seems  to  have  been  successful,  for  there  is  every 
reason  to  believe  that  she  grew  up  to  womanhood  untainted 
by  her  surroundings. 

Various  forces  were  at  work,  however,  which  were  soon 
to  undermine  the  peace  and  tranquillity  of  the  gay  court, 
and  plunge  it  into  deepest  woe.  It  should  be  known 
that  by  a  former  division  of  the  possessions  of  the  royal 
house  of  Naples,  which  had  been  dictated  by  the  whim  of 
a  partial  father,  the  elder  branch  of  that  house  had  been 
allotted  the  kingdom  of  Hungary,  which  had  been  acquired 
originally  as  the  dowry  of  a  princess,  while  to  the  younger 
branch  of  the  house  Naples  and  Provence  had  been  given. 
Such  a  division  of  the  royal  domain  had  never  satisfied 
those  of  the  elder  branch  of  the  family,  and  for  many 
years  the  rulers  of  Hungary  had  cast  longing  eyes  upon 


THE  COURT  IN  THE  TIME  OF  QUEEN  JOANNA        33 

the  fair  states  to  the  south.  The  good  King  Robert,  de- 
siring in  his  heart  to  atone  for  the  slight  which  had  been 
put  upon  them,  decided  to  marry  Joanna  to  his  grand- 
nephew  Andreas,  the  second  son  of  Carobert,  King  of 
Hungary,  thus  restoring  to  the  elder  branch  of  the  family 
the  possession  of  the  throne  of  Naples  without  endanger- 
ing the  rights  of  his  granddaughter,  and  at  the  same  time 
extinguishing  all  the  feuds  and  jealousies  which  had  existed 
for  so  long  a  time  between  the  two  kingdoms.  So  the 
young  Hungarian  prince  was  brought  to  the  Neapolitan 
court  at  once,  and  the  two  children  were  married.  Joanna 
was  but  five  years  old  and  Andreas  but  seven  when  this 
ill-fated  union  was  celebrated,  with  all  possible  splendor 
and  in  the  midst  of  great  rejoicing.  The  children  were 
henceforth  brought  up  together  with  the  idea  that  they 
were  destined  for  each  other,  but  as  the  years  grew  on 
apace  they  displayed  the  most  conflicting  qualities  of  mind 
and  soul. 

A  careful  analysis  of  the  court  life  during  these  youthful 
days  will  reveal  the  fact  that  its  essential  characteristics 
may  be  summed  up  in  the  three  phrases — love  of  literary 
study,  love  of  gallantry,  and  love  of  intrigue;  it  so  hap- 
pens that  each  of  these  phases  is  typified  by  a  woman, 
Joanna  representing  the  first,  Maria, — the  natural  daughter 
of  Robert, — the  second,  and  Philippa  the  Catanese,  the 
third.  Much  has  been  said  already  of  Joanna's  love  for 
study  and  of  her  unusual  attainments,  but  a  word  or  two 
more  will  be  necessary  to  complete  the  picture.  Her 
wonderful  gifts  and  her  evident  delight  in  studious  pur- 
suits were  no  mere  show  of  childish  precocity  which 
would  disappear  with  her  maturer  growth,  for  they  ever 
remained  with  her  and  made  her  one  of  the  very  excep- 
tional women  of  her  day  and  generation.  Imagine  her 
there  in  the  court  of  her  grandfather,  where  no  woman 


34  WOMAN 

before  her  had  ever  shown  the  least  real  and  intelligent 
interest  in  his  intellectual  occupations.  It  was  a  great 
thing,  of  course,  for  all  the  ladies  of  the  court  to  have 
some  famous  poet  come  and  tarry  with  them  for  a  while; 
but  they  thought  only  of  a  possible  affaire  a" amour,  and 
odes  and  sonnets  descriptive  of  their  charms.  There  was 
little  appreciative  understanding  of  literature  or  poetry 
among  them,  and  they  were  quite  content  to  sip  their 
pleasures  from  a  cup  which  was  not  of  the  Pierian  spring. 
Joanna,  however,  seemed  to  enter  earnestly  into  the  lit- 
erary diversions  of  the  king,  and  many  an  hour  did  they 
spend  together  in  the  great  library  of  the  palace,  unfolding 
now  one  and  now  another  of  the  many  parchment  rolls 
and  poring  over  their  contents.  Three  learned  languages 
there  were  at  this  time  in  this  part  of  the  world,  the 
Greek,  the  Latin,  and  the  Arabic,  and  the  day  had  just 
begun  to  dawn  when  the  common  idioms  of  daily  speech 
were  beginning  to  assert  their  literary  value.  So  it  is  but 
natural  to  assume  that  the  majority  of  these  manuscripts 
were  in  these  three  languages,  and  that  it  required  no 
small  amount  of  learning  on  Joanna's  part  to  be  able  to 
decipher  them. 

Far  different  from  this  little  princess  was  Maria  of  Sicily, 
a  woman  of  many  charms,  but  vain  and  inconstant,  and 
satisfied  with  the  frivolities  of  life.  Indeed,  it  must  be 
said  that  it  is  solely  on  account  of  her  love  for  the  poet 
Boccaccio,  after  her  marriage  to  the  Count  of  Artois,  that 
she  is  known  to-day.  Boccaccio  had  journeyed  to  the 
south  from  Florence,  as  the  fame  of  King  Robert's  court 
had  reached  him,  and  he  was  anxious  to  bask  in  its  sun- 
light and  splendor,  and  to  bring  to  some  fruition  his  literary 
impulses,  which  were  fast  welling  up  within  him.  And  to 
Naples  he  came  as  the  spring  was  retouching  the  hills 
with  green  in  1333,  and  there  he  remained  until  late  in  the 


THE  COURT  IN  THE  TIME  OF  QUEEN  JOANNA        35 

year  1341,  when  he  was  forced  to  return  to  his  home  in 
the  north.  His  stay  in  Naples  had  done  much  for  him, 
though  perhaps  less  for  him  personally  than  for  his  literary 
muse,  as  he  plunged  headlong  into  the  mad  whirlpool  of 
social  pleasures  and  enjoyed  to  the  utmost  the  life  of  this 
gay  court,  which  was  enlivened  and  adorned  by  the  wit  of 
men  and  the  beauty  of  women.  Not  until  the  Easter  eve 
before  his  departure,  however,  did  he  chance  to  see  the 
lady  who  was  to  influence  to  such  a  great  degree  his  later 
career.  It  was  in  the  church  of  San  Lorenzo  that  Boccac- 
cio saw  Maria  of  Sicily,  and  it  was  a  case  of  love  at  first 
sight,  the  coup  de  foudre  that  Mile,  de  Scudery  has  talked 
about;  and  if  the  man's  word  may  be  worthy  of  belief  under 
such  circumstances,  the  lady  returned  his  passion  with 
an  equal  ardor.  It  was  not  until  after  much  delay,  how- 
ever, that  she  was  willing  to  yield  to  the  amorous  demands 
of  the  poet,  and  then  she  did  so  in  spite  of  her  honor  and 
her  duty  as  the  wife  of  another.  But  this  delay  but  opened 
the  way  for  an  endless  succession  of  gallant  words  and 
acts,  wherein  the  art  of  coquetry  was  called  upon  to  play 
no  unimportant  part.  Between  these  two  people  there 
was  no  sincere  friendship  such  as  existed  later  between 
Boccaccio  and  Joanna,  and  they  were  but  playing  with  the 
dangerous  fire  of  passion,  which  they  ever  fanned  to  a 
greater  heat. 

Philippa  the  Catanese,  as  she  is  called  in  history,  stands 
for  the  spirit  of  intrigue  in  this  history;  and  well  she  may, 
as  she  has  a  most  wonderful  and  tragic  history.  The 
daughter  of  a  humble  fisherman  of  Catania  in  Sicily,  she 
had  been  employed  by  Queen  Violante,  the  first  wife  of 
Robert,  in  the  care  of  her  infant  son,  the  Duke  of  Calabria. 
Of  wonderful  intelligence  for  one  in  her  station,  gifted 
beyond  her  years,  and  beautiful  and  ambitious,  she  won 
the  favor  of  the  queen  to  such  a  degree  that  she  soon 


36  WOMAN 

became  her  chief  attendant.  Her  foster-child,  the  Duke 
of  Calabria,  who  tenderly  loved  her,  married  her  to  the 
seneschal  of  his  palace  and  appointed  her  first  lady  in 
waiting  to  his  wife;  and  thus  it  happened  that  she  was 
present  at  the  birth  of  Joanna,  and  was  the  first  to  receive 
her  in  her  arms.  Naturally  enough,  then,  King  Robert 
made  her  the  governess  and  custodian  of  the  small  duchess 
after  her  father's  death.  This  appointment  of  a  woman 
of  low  origin  to  so  high  a  position  in  the  court  gave  offence 
to  many  of  the  highborn  ladies  there,  and  none  could 
understand  the  reason  for  it  all.  Many  dark  rumors  were 
afloat,  and,  although  the  matter  was  discussed  in  under- 
tones, it  was  the  general  opinion  that  she  had  been  aided 
by  magic  or  sorcery,  and  the  bolder  spirits  said  that  she 
was  in  daily  communication  with  the  Evil  One.  However 
that  may  be,  she  was  faithful  to  her  trust,  and  it  was 
only  through  her  too  zealous  scheming  in  behalf  of  her 
young  mistress  that  she  was  brought  to  her  tragic  end. 

As  the  two  children,  Andreas  and  Joanna,  grew  up  to 
maturity,  it  became  more  and  more  apparent  that  there 
was  no  bond  of  sympathy  between  them.  Andreas  had 
as  his  preceptor  a  monk  named  Fra  Roberto,  who  was  the 
open  enemy  of  Philippa,  and  her  competitor  in  power.  It 
was  his  constant  aim  to  keep  Andreas  in  ignorance  and  to 
inspire  him  with  a  dislike  for  the  people  of  Naples,  whom 
he  was  destined  to  govern,  and  to  this  end  he  made  him 
retain  his  Hungarian  dress  and  customs.  Petrarch,  who 
made  a  second  visit  to  Naples  as  envoy  from  the  pope,  has 
this  to  say  of  Fra  Roberto:  "May  Heaven  rid  the  soil  of 
Italy  of  such  a  pest!  A  horrible  animal  with  bald  head 
and  bare  feet,  short  in  stature,  swollen  in  person,  with 
worn-out  rags  torn  studiously  to  show  his  naked  skin, 
who  not  only  despises  the  supplications  of  the  citizens, 
but,  from  the  vantage  ground  of  his  feigned  sanctity,  treats 


THE  COURT  IN  THE  TIME  OF  QUEEN  JOANNA        37 

with  scorn  the  embassy  of  the  pope."  King  Robert  saw 
too  late  the  mistake  he  had  committed,  as  the  sorrow  and 
trouble  in  store  for  the  young  wife  were  only  too  apparent. 
To  remedy,  so  far  as  was  in  his  power,  this  unhappy 
condition  of  affairs,  he  called  again  a  meeting  of  his  feudal 
lords;  and  this  time  he  had  them  swear  allegiance  to 
Joanna  alone  in  her  own  right,  formally  excluding  the 
Hungarians  from  any  share  in  the  sovereign  power.  While 
gratifying  to  the  Neapolitans,  this  act  could  but  excite  the 
enmity  of  the  Hungarian  faction  under  Fra  Roberto,  and  it 
paved  the  way  for  much  intrigue  and  much  treachery  in 
the  future. 

When  King  Robert  died  in  1343,  Joanna  became  Queen 
of  Naples  and  Provence  at  the  age  of  fifteen;  but  on  ac- 
count of  her  youth  and  inexperience,  and  because  of  the 
machinations  of  the  hateful  monk,  she  was  kept  in  virtual 
bondage,  and  the  once  peaceful  court  was  rent  by  the 
bitterest  dissensions.  Through  it  all,  however,  Joanna 
seems  to  have  shown  no  special  dislike  to  Andreas,  who, 
indeed,  was  probably  innocent  of  any  participation  in  the 
scheming  of  his  followers;  Petrarch  compares  the  young 
queen  and  her  consort  to  two  lambs  in  the  midst  of  wolves. 
The  time  for  Joanna's  formal  coronation  was  fixed  for 
September  20,  1345,  and  some  weeks  before,  while  the 
palace  was  being  decorated  and  prepared  for  this  great 
event,  the  young  couple  had  retired  to  the  Celestine  mon- 
astery at  Aversa,  some  fifteen  miles  away.  Joanna,  who 
was  soon  to  become  a  mother,  was  much  benefited  by  this 
change  of  scene,  and  all  was  peace  and  happiness  about 
them,  with  nothing  to  indicate  the  awful  tragedy  which 
the  future  held  in  store.  On  the  night  of  September  i8th, 
two  days  before  the  coronation  was  to  take  place,  Andreas 
was  called  from  the  queen's  apartment  by  the  information 
that  a  courier  from  Naples  was  waiting  to  see  him  upon 


38  WOMAN 

urgent  business.  In  the  dark  corridor  without,  he  was  at 
once  seized  by  some  person  or  persons  whose  identity  has 
never  been  made  clear,  who  stopped  his  mouth  with  their 
gloves  and  then  strangled  him  and  suspended  his  body 
from  a  balcony.  The  cord,  however,  was  not  strong 
enough  to  stand  the  strain,  and  broke,  and  the  body  fell 
into  the  garden  below.  There  the  assassins  would  have 
buried  it  upon  the  spot,  if  they  had  not  been  put  to  flight 
by  a  servant  of  the  palace,  who  gave  the  alarm. 

This  deed  of  violence  gave  rise  to  much  suspicion,  and 
the  assertion  is  often  made  that  Joanna  had  at  least  con- 
nived at  her  husband's  unhappy  end.  Indeed,  there  is  a 
story — which  is  without  foundation,  however — to  the  effect 
that  Andreas  found  her  one  day  twisting  a  silken  rope  with 
which  it  was  her  intention  to  have  him  strangled;  and 
when  he  asked  her  what  she  was  doing,  she  replied,  with 
a  smile:  "Twisting  a  rope  with  which  to  hang  you!" 
But  it  is  difficult  to  believe  the  truth  of  any  of  these  impu- 
tations. If  she  were  cruel  enough  to  desire  her  husband's 
death,  and  bold  enough  to  plan  for  it,  she  was  also  intelli- 
gent enough  to  execute  her  purpose  in  a  manner  less  fool- 
ish and  less  perilous  to  herself.  Never,  up  to  this  time, 
had  she  given  the  slightest  indication  of  such  cruelty  in 
her  character,  and  never  after  that  time  was  the  slightest 
suspicion  cast  upon  her  for  any  other  evil  act.  How,  then, 
could  it  be  possible  that  Andreas  had  been  murdered  by 
her  order?  Whatever  the  cause  of  this  ferocious  outbreak, 
the  Hungarian  faction,  struck  with  consternation,  fled  in 
all  directions,  not  knowing  what  to  expect.  The  next 
morning  Joanna  returned  to  the  castle  Nuovo,  where  she 
remained  until  after  the  birth  of  her  son.  During  this 
period  of  confinement,  she  wrote  a  letter  to  the  King  of 
Hungary,  her  father-in-law,  telling  him  what  had  taken 
place.  In  this  epistle  she  makes  use  of  the  expression: 


THE  COURT  IN  THE  TIME  OF  QUEEN  JOANNA        39 

"My  good  husband,  with  whom  I  have  ever  associated 
without  strife;"  and  she  declares  regarding  her  own  sor- 
row: "I  have  suffered  so  much  anguish  for  the  death  of 
my  beloved  husband  that,  stunned  by  grief,  I  had  well- 
nigh  died  of  the  same  wounds!" 

As  soon  as  her  strength  would  permit,  Joanna  sum- 
moned a  council  of  her  advisers  and  signed  a  commission 
giving  Hugh  de  Balzo  full  authority  to  seek  out  the  mur- 
derers and  punish  them.  Suspicion  at  once  fell  upon 
Philippa  the  Catanese,  and  upon  other  members  of  her 
family,  as  her  hatred  of  the  Hungarians  was  well  known, 
and  her  past  reputation  for  intrigue  and  mystery  only 
added  strength  to  the  accusation.  Philippa,  who,  since 
the  death  of  King  Robert,  had  been  created  Countess  of 
Montoni,  was  now  more  powerful  than  ever  at  the  court, 
and  seemed  to  invite  the  danger  which  was  hanging  over 
her,  in  the  belief  that  no  harm  could  touch  her  head.  But 
her  calculations  went  astray,  as  Balzo  appeared  one  morn- 
ing at  the  palace  gate,  produced  evidence  incriminating  her 
and  her  intimates,  and  dragged  them  off  to  prison,  where 
they  were  put  to  death  in  the  most  approved  Neapolitan 
fashion — with  lingering  torments  and  tortures.  From  that 
day  the  character  of  the  young  queen  underwent  a  most 
decided  change.  Hitherto  she  had  been  gay,  frank,  and 
confiding,  now  she  became  serious  and  reserved.  She  had 
always  been  gracious  and  compassionate,  and  rather  the 
equal  than  the  queen  of  those  about  her, — according  to 
Boccaccio's  description, — but  treachery  had  come  so  near 
to  her,  and  her  trusted  Philippa  had  proved  so  vile  a  char- 
acter, that  she  never  after  gave  her  entire  confidence  to 
any  person,  man  or  woman. 

Some  two  years  after  the  death  of  Andreas,  for  reasons 
of  state,  she  married  her  second  cousin,  Louis  of  Taranto, 
a  brave  and  handsome  prince  of  whom  she  had  long  been 


40  WOMAN 

fond.  But  she  was  not  to  be  allowed  to  enjoy  her  newly 
found  happiness  in  peace,  as  her  domains  were  soon  in- 
vaded by  Louis,  the  elder  brother  of  Andreas,  who  had 
recently  ascended  his  father's  throne  as  King  of  Hun- 
gary, and  who  now  came  to  avenge  his  brother's  death 
and  seize  Naples  by  way  of  indemnity.  Joanna,  deserted 
by  many  of  her  nobles  in  these  dire  straits,  and  not  know- 
ing what  to  do, — as  her  husband  seems  to  have  played 
no  part  in  this  emergency,— decided  upon  flight  as  the  only 
means  of  safety,  and,  embarking  with  her  entire  household 
in  three  galleys,  she  set  sail  for  Provence,  where  loyal 
hearts  awaited  her  coming.  There  she  went  at  once  to 
Avignon,  where  Pope  Clement  VI.  was  holding  his  court 
with  the  utmost  splendor;  and  in  the  presence  of  the  pope 
and  all  the  cardinals,  she  made  answer  in  her  own  behalf 
to  the  charges  which  had  been  made  against  her  by  the 
Hungarian  king.  Her  address,  which  she  had  previously 
composed  in  Latin,  has  been  called  the  "most  powerful 
specimen  of  female  oratory"  ever  recorded  in  history;  and 
the  Hungarian  ambassadors,  who  had  been  sent  to  plead 
against  her,  were  so  confounded  by  her  eloquence  that 
they  attempted  no  reply  to  her  defence. 

In  the  meantime,  Naples,  in  the  hands  of  the  invaders, 
had  been  stained  with  blood,  and  then  ravaged  by  the 
great  plague  of  which  Boccaccio  has  given  us  a  picture. 
Revolting  at  length  under  the  harsh  measures  of  the  Hun- 
garian governor  who  had  been  left  in  charge  by  Louis,  the 
Neapolitans  expelled  him  and  his  followers  from  the  city, 
and  sent  an  urgent  invitation  to  Joanna  to  return  to  her 
former  home.  Right  gladly  was  the  summons  answered, 
and  with  a  goodly  retinue  of  brave  knights  who  had  sworn 
to  die  in  her  service  she  returned  to  her  people,  who  wel- 
comed her  homecoming  with  unbounded  enthusiasm.  Now 
the  court  resumed  it?  gayety  and  animation,  and  again  it 


THE  COURT  IN  THE  TIME  OF  QUEEN  JOANNA       41 

became,  as  in  the  days  of  King  Robert,  a  far-famed  school 
of  courtesy.  Alphonse  Daudet  gives  us  a  hint  of  all  this 
in  his  exquisite  short  story  entitled  La  Mule  du  Pape,  where 
he  tells  of  the  young  page  Tistet  Vedene,  qui  descendait  le 
Rhone  en  chantant  sur  une  galere  papale  et  s'en  allait  a  la 
cour  de  Naples  avec  la  troupe  de  jeunes  nobles  que  la  •ville 
envoy  ait  tous  les  ans  pres  de  la  reine  Jeanne  pour  s'exercer  a 
la  diplomatie  et  aux  belles  manieres  [who  descended  the 
RhSne,  singing,  upon  a  papal  galley,  and  went  away  to 
the  court  of  Naples  with  the  company  of  young  nobles 
whom  the  city  (of  Avignon)  sent  every  year  to  Queen 
Joanna  for  training  in  diplomacy  and  fine  manners] .  There 
was  further  war  with  the  Hungarians,  it  is  true,  but  peace 
was  established,  Sicily  was  added  to  Joanna's  domain,  and 
there  was  general  tranquillity. 

Twice  again  did  Joanna  marry,  urged  to  this  course  by 
her  ministers,  but  death  removed  her  consort  each  time, 
and  in  the  end  she  was  put  into  captivity  by  her  relative 
and  adopted  child,  Charles  of  Durazzo,  who  had  forsaken 
her  to  follow  the  fortunes  of  the  King  of  Hungary,  and  who 
had  invaded  Naples  and  put  forth  a  claim -to  the  throne, 
basing  it  upon  some  scheming  papal  grant  which  was  with- 
out legality.  Charles  had  her  taken  to  the  castle  of  Muro, 
a  lonely  fortress  in  the  Apennines,  some  sixty  miles  from 
Naples,  and  there,  her  spirit  of  defiance  unsubdued,  she 
was  murdered  by  four  common  soldiers  in  the  latter  part 
of  May,  1382,  after  a  reign  of  thirty-nine  years.  So  came 
to  an  end  this  brilliant  queen,  the  most  accomplished  woman 
of  her  generation,  and  with  her  downfall  the  lamp  of  learn- 
ing was  dimmed  for  a  time  in  southern  Italy,  where  the 
din  of  arms  and  the  discord  of  civic  strife  gave  no  tran- 
quillity to  those  who  loved  the  arts  of  peace. 


antr  tfje 


HI 

WOMEN  AND  THE   CHURCH 

NEAR  the  close  of  the  first  half  of  the  fourteenth  cen- 
tury, after  the  terrible  ravages  of  the  great  plague  had 
abated,  the  people  were  prostrate  with  fear  and  terrorized 
by  the  merciless  words  of  the  priests,  who  had  not  been 
slow  to  declare  the  pestilence  as  a  mark  of  the  wrath  of 
God  and  who  were  utilizing  the  peculiar  possibilities  of  this 
psychological  moment  for  the  advancement  of  the  interests 
of  the  Church.  In  the  churches — the  wondrous  mediaeval 
structures  which  were  newly  built  at  that  time — songs  of 
spasmodic  grief  like  the  Stabat  Mater,  or  of  tragic  terror 
such  as  the  Dies  irx,  were  echoing  under  the  high-vaulted 
arches,  and  the  fear  of  God  was  upon  the  people.  In  a 
great  movement  of  this  kind  it  is  but  to  be  expected  that 
women  played  no  little  part;  their  more  sensitive  natures 
caused  them  to  be  more  easily  affected  than  were  the  men 
by  the  threats  of  everlasting  torment  which  were  con- 
stantly being  made  by  the  priests  for  the  benefit  of  all 
those  who  refused  to  renounce  worldly  things  and  come 
within  the  priestly  fold.  There  was  a  most  remarkable 
show  of  contrition  and  penitence  at  this  time,  and  thou- 
sands of  persons,  men  and  women  of  all  classes,  were  so 
deeply  moved  that  they  went  about  in  companies,  beating 
themselves  and  each  other  for  the  glory  of  God,  and  sing- 
ing vociferously  their  melancholy  dirges.  These  were  the 

45 


46  WOMAN 

Flagellants,  and  there  were  crowds  of  them  all  over 
Europe,  the  number  in  France  alone  at  this  time  being 
estimated  at  eight  hundred  thousand.  One  of  the  direct 
results  of  this  state  of  religious  excitement  was  an  in- 
creased interest,  on  the  part  of  women,  in  religious  ser- 
vice, and  a  renewed  desire  to  devote  themselves  to  a 
religious  life. 

The  conditions  of  conjugal  life  had  been  such  throughout 
the  feudal  period  that  for  many  years  there  had  been  a 
slowly  growing  sentiment  that  marriage  was  but  a  manner 
of  self-abandonment  to  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the 
devil,  and  many  women  from  time  to  time  were  influenced 
to  put  away  worldly  things  and  seek  peace  in  the  protec- 
tion of  some  religious  order.  Tertullian  had  long  before 
condemned  marriage,  and  Saint  Jerome  was  most  bitter 
against  it.  The  various  abuses  of  the  marriage  relation 
were  such  that  those  of  pure  hearts  and  minds  could  but 
pause  and  ask  themselves  whether  or  not  this  was  an  ideal 
arrangement  of  human  life;  and,  all  in  all,  there  was  still 
much  to  be  done  by  means  of  educational  processes  before 
men  and  women  could  lead  a  life  together  which  might  be 
of  mutual  advantage  to  all  parties  concerned.  Still,  it  must 
not  be  supposed  that  this  tendency  on  the  part  of  women 
to  affiliate  themselves  with  conventual  orders  was  a 
movement  of  recent  origin. 

Since  the  earliest  days  of  Christianity  women  had  been 
especially  active  in  the  work  of  the  Church,  and  there 
were  countless  martyrs  among  them  even  as  far  back  as 
the  time  of  the  Roman  persecutions.  In  the  old  days  of 
pagan  worship  they  had  been  allowed  their  part  in  reli- 
gious ceremonies,  and  with  the  development  of  the  religious 
institutions  of  Christendom  this  active  participation  had 
steadily  increased.  But,  more  than  this,  when  it  became 
necessary  to  withdraw  from  the  corrupt  atmosphere  of 


WOMEN  AND  THE  CHURCH  47 

everyday  affairs  in  order  to  lead  a  good  life,  it  came  to  pass 
that  near  the  dwellings  of  the  first  monks  and  hermits  who 
had  sought  the  desert  and  solitude  for  their  lives  of  medi- 
tation were  to  be  found  shelters  for  their  wives  and  sisters 
and  daughters  who  had  followed  them  to  their  retreats  to 
share  in  their  holy  lives. 

Slowly,  as  in  the  case  of  the  men,  the  conventual  orders 
for  women  were  formed  in  these  communities  and  regu- 
lated by  such  rules  as  seemed  best  suited  to  their  needs. 
At  the  outset  it  may  be  stated  that  celibacy  as  a  pre- 
requisite to  admission  to  such  orders  was  required  of 
women  before  it  was  of  men;  and  so  in  one  way  the  pro- 
fession of  a  nun  antedates  the  corresponding  profession  of 
a  monk,  as  the  idea  of  an  unmarried  life  had  already  made 
much  progress  in  the  Christian  Church  among  women  be- 
fore it  came  into  vogue  among  the  men.  It  may  be  that 
the  women  of  that  time  were  inclined  to  take  literally  that 
chapter  in  Paul's  first  Epistle  to  the  Corinthians  wherein 
it  is  said:  "There  is  this  difference,  also,  between  a  wife 
and  a  virgin:  the  unmarried  woman  careth  for  the  things 
of  the  Lord,  that  she  may  be  holy  both  in  body  and  in  spirit; 
but  she  that  is  married  careth  for  the  things  of  the  world, 
how  she  may  please  her  husband;"  but,  however  that 
may  be,  these  orders  of  unmarried  women  soon  became 
numerous,  and  severe  were  the  penalties  imposed  upon 
all  those  who  broke  the  vow  of  chastity  when  once  it  had 
been  made.  The  consecration  of  a  nun  was  a  most 
solemn  occasion,  and  the  rites  had  to  be  administered  by 
a  bishop,  or  by  one  acting  under  episcopal  authority. 
The  favorite  times  for  the  celebration  of  this  ceremony 
were  the  great  Church  festival  days  in  honor  of  the 
Apostles,  and  at  Epiphany  and  Easter.  When  the  nun^ 
were  consecrated,  a  fillet  was  placed  in  their  hair — a  purpla 
ribbon  or  a  slender  band  of  gold — to  represent  a  crown  of 


48  WOMAN 

victory,  and  the  tresses,  which  were  gathered  up  and  tied 
together,  showed  the  difference  between  this  bride  of 
Christ  and  a  bride  of  earth,  with  her  hair  falling  loose 
about  her  shoulders  after  the  Roman  fashion.  Then  over 
all  was  placed  the  long,  flowing  veil,  as  a  sign  that  the 
nun  belonged  to  Christ  alone. 

The  ordinary  rules  of  conduct  which  were  prescribed 
for  the  inmates  of  the  nunneries  resemble  in  many  ways 
those  which  were  laid  down  for  the  men;  and  those  first 
followed  are  ascribed  to  Scholastica,  a  sister  of  the  great 
Saint  Benedict,  who  established  the  order  of  Benedictines 
at  Monte  Cassino  about  529;  according  to  popular  tradition, 
this  holy  woman  was  esteemed  as  the  foundress  of  nun- 
neries in  Europe.  For  the  regulation  of  the  women's  orders 
Saint  Augustine  formulated  twenty-four  rules,  which  he 
prescribed  should  be  read  every  week,  and  later  Saint  Bene- 
dict revised  them  and  extended  them  so  that  there  were 
finally  seventy-two  rules  in  addition  to  the  Ten  Command- 
ments. The  nuns  were  to  obey  their  superior  implicitly, 
silence  and  humility  were  enjoined  upon  them,  head  and 
eyes  were  to  be  kept  lowered  at  all  times,  the  hours  for 
going  to  bed  and  for  rising  were  fixed,  and  there  were 
minute  regulations  regarding  prayers,  watches,  and  devo- 
tions. Furthermore,  they  were  rarely  allowed  to  go  out 
of  their  convents,  they  were  to  possess  nothing  of  their 
own,  mirrors  were  not  tolerated,  being  conducive  to  per- 
sonal vanity,  and  the  luxury  of  a  bath  was  granted  only 
in  case  of  sickness. 

As  with  the  ordinary  rules  of  conduct,  so  the  ordinary 
routine  of  daily  life  in  a  nunnery  corresponded  to  that  of  a 
monastery.  Hour  by  hour,  there  was  the  same  periodical 
rotation  of  work  and  religious  service,  with  short  intervals 
at  fixed  times  for  rest  or  food.  The  usual  occupation  in 
the  earliest  times  had  to  do  with  the  carding  and  spinning 


WOMEN  AND  THE  CHURCH  49 

of  wool,  and  Saint  Jerome,  with  his  characteristic  earnest- 
ness, advises  the  nuns  to  have  the  wool  ever  in  their 
hands.  Saint  Augustine  gives  us  the  picture  of  a  party  of 
nuns  standing  at  the  door  of  their  convent  and  handing  out 
the  woollen  garments  which  they  have  made  for  the  old 
monks  who  are  standing  there  waiting  to  receive  them, 
with  food  to  give  to  the  nuns  in  exchange.  The  sim- 
plicity of  this  scene  recalls  the  epitaph  which  is  said  to 
have  been  written  in  honor  of  a  Roman  housewife  who 
lived  in  the  simple  days  of  the  Republic:  "She  stayed  at 
home  and  spun  wool!"  Somewhat  later  the  nuns  were 
called  upon  to  furnish  the  elegantly  embroidered  altar 
cloths  which  were  used  in  the  churches,  and,  still  later,  in 
some  places  girls'  schools  were  established  in  the  convents. 

In  the  eleventh  century,  the  successful  struggle  which 
had  been  made  by  Gregory  VII.,  with  the  aid  of  the 
Countess  Matilda,  for  the  principle  of  papal  supremacy 
exerted  a  marked  influence  upon  the  religious  life  of  the 
time  and  gave  an  undoubted  impetus  to  the  idea  of  con- 
ventual life  for  women,  as  during  this  period  many  new 
cloisters  were  established.  It  will  be  readily  understood 
that  the  deeds  of  the  illustrious  Tuscan  countess  had  been 
held  up  more  than  once  to  the  gaze  of  the  people  of  Italy 
as  worthy  of  their  emulation,  and  many  women  were  un- 
questionably induced  in  this  way  to  give  their  lives  to  the 
Church.  In  the  Cistercian  order  alone  there  were  more 
than  six  thousand  cloisters  for  women  by  the  middle  of  the 
twelfth  century. 

It  was  during  this  same  eleventh  century,  when  a  woman 
had  helped  to  strengthen  the  power  of  the  Church,  that 
the  influence  of  the  Madonna — of  Mary,  the  mother  of 
Christ — began  to  make  a  profound  impression  upon  the 
form  of  worship.  A  multitude  of  Latin  hymns  may  be 
found  which  were  written  in  honor  of  the  Virgin  as  far 


50  WOMAN 

back  as  the  fifth  century,  and  in  the  mediaeval  romances 
of  chivalry,  which  were  so  often  tinged  with  religious 
mysticism,  she  often  appears  as  the  Empress  and  Queen 
of  Heaven.  All  through  the  mediaeval  period,  in  fact, 
there  was  a  constant  endeavor  to  prove  that  the  Old 
Testament  contained  allusions  to  Mary,  and,  with  this  in 
view,  Albertus  Magnus  put  together  a  Marienbibel  in  the 
twelfth  century,  and  Bonaventura  edited  a  Marienpsalter . 
Therein,  the  gates  of  Paradise,  Noah's  ark,  Jacob's  ladder, 
the  ark  of  the  Covenant,  Aaron's  rod,  Solomon's  throne, 
and  many  other  things,  were  held  up  as  examples  and 
foreshadowings  of  the  coming  of  the  Blessed  Virgin;  and 
in  the  sermons,  commentaries,  and  homilies  of  the  time 
the  same  ideas  were  continually  emphasized.  A  collection 
of  the  Latin  appellations  which  were  bestowed  upon  the 
Madonna  during  this  time  contains  the  following  terms, 
which  reveal  the  fervor  and  temper  of  the  age:  Dei  geni- 
trix,  "virgo  virginum,  mater  Christi,  mater  divince  gratice, 
mater  potens,  speculum  justitice,  -vas  spirituale,  rosa  mystica, 
turris  davidica,  domus  aurea,  janua  cccli,  regina  peccato- 
rum,  regina  apostolorum,  consolatrix  afflictorum,  and  regina 
sanctorum  omnium. 

The  Benedictines  had  consecrated  themselves  to  the 
service  of  Mary  since  the  time  of  the  Crusades,  and,  be- 
ginning with  the  eleventh  century,  many  religious  orders 
and  brotherhoods  were  organized  in  honor  of  Mary.  The 
Order  of  the  Knights  of  the  Star  was  founded  in  1022,  and 
the  Knights  of  the  Lily  were  organized  in  1048.  About  the 
middle  of  the  twelfth  century  the  Order  of  the  Holy  Maid 
of  Evora  and  that  of  the  Knights  of  Alcantara  were  estab- 
lished, and  others  followed.  In  1149  Pope  Celestine  III. 
chartered  the  Order  of  the  Holy  Virgin,  for  the  service  of 
a  hospital  in  Siena;  in  1218,  after  a  revelation  from  on 
high,  the  Order  of  the  Holy  Mary  of  Mercy  was  founded 


WOMEN  AND  THE  CHURCH  $1 

by  Peter  Nolascus — Raymond  von  Pennaforte — for  the 
express  purpose  of  giving  aid  and  freedom  to  captives. 
In  1233  seven  noble  Florentines  founded  the  Order  of  the 
Servants  of  Mercy,  adopting  Saint  Augustine's  rules  of 
conduct,  and  they  dwelt  in  the  convent  of  the  Annunziata, 
in  Florence.  In  1285  Philip  Benizio  founded  a  similar  order 
for  women,  and,  soon  after,  the  pious  Juliana  Falconeri 
instituted  for  women  a  second  order  of  the  same  kind. 
There  was  a  constant  multiplication  of  these  orders  vowed 
to  the  service  of  the  Madonna  as  the  centuries  passed,  and 
the  idea  of  Madonna  worship  became  more  firmly  fixed. 

No  account  of  Madonna  worship  can  be  considered  com- 
plete, however,  without  some  reference  to  the  influence 
which  it  exerted  upon  the  art  of  the  time.  Madonna  pic- 
tures first  appeared  in  the  East,  where  the  worship  of  such 
images  had  gained  a  firm  foothold  as  early  as  the  ninth 
century,  but  long  before  that  time  pictures  of  the  Mother 
of  God  were  known  and  many  of  them  had  become  quite 
famous.  Saint  Luke  the  Evangelist  is  generally  considered 
as  the  first  of  the  religious  painters,  and  the  Vladimir 
Church  at  Moscow  is  in  possession  of  a  Madonna  which  is 
supposed  to  be  the  work  of  his  hand.  The  Eastern  Church 
was  the  first  to  feel  the  effect  of  this  outburst  of  religious 
art,  and  it  is  but  natural  to  find  some  of  its  earliest  exam- 
ples in  various  other  Russian  cities,  such  as  Kieff,  Kazan, 
and  Novgorod.  Bronze  reliefs  of  the  Virgin  were  also 
common,  and  in  many  a  crude  form  and  fashion  this  newly 
aroused  sentiment  of  Christian  art  sought  to  find  adequate 
expression.  The  Western  Church  soon  followed  this  move- 
ment in  every  detail,  and  then  by  slow  degrees  upon  Ital- 
ian soil  began  that  evolution  in  artistic  conception  and 
artistic  technique  which  was  to  culminate  in  the  effulgent 
glory  of  Raphael's  Sistine  Madonna.  It  was  the  Emperor 
Justinian's  conquest  of  Italy  which  "sowed  the  new  art 


52  WOMAN 

seed  in  a  fertile  field,"  to  use  Miss  Hurl's  expression;  but 
inasmuch  as  artistic  endeavor  shows  that  same  lack  of 
originality  which  was  characteristic  of  all  other  forms 
of  intellectual  activity  at  this  time,  the  germ  took  root  but 
slowly,  and  for  a  number  of  centuries  servile  imitations  of 
the  highly  decorated  and  decidedly  soulless  Byzantine  Vir- 
gins were  very  common.  One  of  these  paintings  may  be 
found  in  almost  every  church  throughout  the  length  and 
breadth  of  Italy;  but  when  you  have  seen  one  you  have 
seen  them  all,  for  they  all  have  the  same  expression.  The 
eyes  are  generally  large  and  ill  shaped,  the  nose  is  long, 
the  face  is  wan  and  meagre,  and  there  is  a  peevish  and 
almost  saturnine  expression  in  the  wooden  features  which 
shows  but  slight  affection  for  the  Christ-child,  and  which 
could  have  afforded  but  scant  comfort  to  any  who  sought 
to  find  there  a  gleam  of  tender  pity.  These  pictures  were 
generally  half-length,  against  a  background  of  gold  leaf, 
which  was  at  first  laid  on  solidly,  but  which  at  a  later 
period  was  adorned  with  tiny  cherub  figures.  The  folds 
of  the  drapery  were  stiff  and  heavy,  and  the  whole  effect 
was  dull  and  lifeless.  But  no  matter  how  inadequate  such 
a  picture  may  seem  to  us  to-day,  and  no  matter  how  much 
it  seems  to  lack  the  depth  and  sincerity  of  reality,  it  pos- 
sessed for  the  people  of  the  Middle  Ages  a  mystic  charm 
which  had  its  influence.  These  pictures  were  often  sup- 
posed to  have  miraculous  power,  and  there  are  many 
legends  and  wonderful  tales  concerning  them. 

The  first  really  great  master  among  Italian  painters, 
however,  was  Giovanni  Cimabue,  who  lived  in  Florence 
during  the  last  part  of  the  thirteenth  century;  he  infused 
into  his  work  a  certain  vigor  and  animation  which  were 
even  more  than  a  portent  of  the  revival  which  was  to 
come.  Other  Italian  painters  there  had  been  before  him, 
it  is  true,  and  particularly  Guido  of  Siena  and  Giunta 


WOMEN  AND  THE  CHURCH  53 

of  Pisa;  but  they  fail  to  show  in  their  work  that  spirit  of 
originality  and  that  breadth  of  conception  which  were  so 
characteristic  of  their  successors.  Throughout  the  thir- 
teenth and  fourteenth  centuries  there  is  an  evident  effort 
after  an  artistic  expression  of  the  deeper  things  of  life 
which  shall  in  some  way  correspond  to  the  spiritual  reali- 
ties. The  yearning  human  heart  which  was  being  solaced 
by  the  beautiful  story  of  Christ  and  the  mother  Mary,  and 
which  was  filled  with  religious  enthusiasm  at  the  thought 
of  this  Virgin  enthroned  in  the  heavens,  was  growing 
weary  of  the  set  features  and  stolid  look  of  the  Madonna 
of  Byzantine  art,  and  dreaming  mystic  dreams  of  the 
beauty  of  the  Christ  mother  as  she  must  have  been  in 
real  life.  She  became  the  centre  of  thought  and  specula- 
tion, prayers  and  supplications  were  addressed  to  her,  and 
more  than  once  did  she  appear  in  beatific  vision  to  some 
illumined  worshipper.  It  was  in  the  midst  of  this  glow  of 
feeling  that  Cimabue  painted  his  colossal  and  wondrous 
Madonna  and  Child  with  the  Angels,  the  largest  altar 
piece  which  had  been  produced  up  to  that  time.  Cima- 
bue was  then  living  in  the  Borgo  Allegri,  one  of  the 
suburbs  of  Florence,  and  there  in  his  studio  this  great 
painting  slowly  came  into  existence.  As  soon  as  it 
assumed  some  definite  shape  its  fame  was  noised  abroad, 
and  many  were  the  curious  ones  who  came  to  watch  the 
master  at  his  task.  The  mere  fact  that  this  painting  was 
upon  a  larger  scale  than  any  other  picture  of  the  kind 
which  had  before  been  attempted  in  Italy  was  enough  to 
arrest  the  attention  of  the  most  indifferent;  and  as  the  figure 
warmed  into  life  and  the  face  of  the  Madonna  became  as 
that  of  a  holy  woman,  human  and  yet  divine  in  its  pity, 
and  with  a  tender  and  melancholy  expression,  the  popular 
acclaim  with  which  the  picture  was  hailed  was  unprece- 
dented, and  Cimabue  became  at  once  the  acknowledged 


54  WOMAN 

master  of  his  time.  So  great  was  the  joy  and  appreciation 
with  which  this  Madonna  was  received,  that  a  beautiful 
story  is  told  to  the  effect  that  it  was  only  after  its  com- 
pletion that  the  name  Allegri  [joyous]  was  given  to  the 
locality  in  which  the  work  was  done;  but,  unfortunately, 
the  facts  do  not  bear  out  the  tale — Baedeker  and  other  emi- 
nent authorities  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding.  Before 
this  picture  was  taken  to  the  beautiful  chapel  of  the  Rucel- 
lai  in  the  Chiesa  Santa  Maria  Novella  in  Florence,  where 
it  can  be  seen  to-day,  the  French  nobleman  Charles  of 
Anjou  went  to  inspect  it,  and  with  him  went  a  stately  com- 
pany of  lords  and  ladies.  Later,  when  it  was  removed  to 
the  church,  a  solemn  religious  procession  was  organized 
for  the  occasion.  Preceded  by  trumpeters,  under  a  rain 
of  flowers,  and  followed  by  the  whole  populace,  it  went 
from  the  Borgo  Allegri  to  the  church,  and  there  it  was 
installed  with  proper  ceremony. 

The  list  of  holy  women  who,  by  means  of  their  good 
lives  and  their  deeds,  helped  on  the  cause  of  the  Church 
during  this  early  time  is  a  long  one;  in  almost  every  com- 
munity there  was  a  local  saint  of  great  renown  and  won- 
derful powers.  Ignorance,  superstition,  and  credulity  had, 
perhaps,  much  to  do  with  the  miraculous  power  which 
these  saints  possessed,  but  there  can  be  no  doubt  that 
most,  if  not  all,  of  the  legends  which  concern  them  had 
some  good  foundation  in  fact.  The  holy  Rosalia  of  Palermo 
is  one  of  the  best  known  of  these  mediaeval  saints,  and 
even  to-day  there  is  a  yearly  festival  in  her  honor.  For 
many  years  she  had  lived  in  a  grotto  near  the  city;  there, 
by  her  godly  life  and  many  kind  deeds,  she  had  inspired 
the  love  and  reverence  of  the  whole  community.  When 
the  pest  came  in  1150 — that  awful  black  death  which 
killed  the  people  by  hundreds — they  turned  to  her  in  their 


WOMEN  AND  THE  CHURCH  55 

despair  and  begged  her  to  intercede  with  them  and  take 
away  this  curse  of  God,  as  it  was  believed  to  be.  Through 
an  entire  night,  within  her  grotto,  the  good  Rosalia  prayed 
that  the  plague  might  be  taken  away  and  the  people  for- 
given, and  the  story  has  it  that  her  prayers  were  answered 
at  once.  At  her  death  she  was  made  the  patron  saint  of 
Palermo,  and  the  lonely  grotto  became  a  sacred  spot  which 
was  carefully  preserved,  and  which  may  be  seen  to-day 
by  all  who  go  to  visit  it  on  Monte  Pellegrino. 

In  the  first  part  of  the  thirteenth  century  two  new  orders 
for  women  grew  up  in  connection  with  the  recently  founded 
orders  of  the  Franciscans  and  Dominicans;  the  story  of 
the  foundation  of  the  former  sisterhood  in  particular  is  one 
of  striking  interest.  This  organization  originated  in  1212 
and  its  members  were  called  Les  Clarisses,  after  Clara,  the 
daughter  of  Favorino  Seisso,  a  knight  of  Assisi.  Clara, 
though  rich  and  accustomed  to  a  life  of  indolence  and 
pleasure,  was  so  moved  by  the  preaching  of  Saint  Francis, 
that  she  sent  for  this  holy  man  and  conversed  with  him  at 
great  length  upon  religious  topics.  Finally,  after  a  short 
but  natural  hesitation,  she  made  up  her  mind  to  take  the 
veil  and  establish  an  order  for  women  which  should  em- 
body many  of  the  ideas  for  which  the  Franciscan  order 
stood.  The  Franciscans,  in  addition  to  the  usual  vows  of 
chastity,  poverty,  and  obedience,  laid  special  stress  upon 
preaching  and  ministry  to  the  soul  and  body.  After  the 
conversion  was  complete,  she  was  taken  by  Saint  Francis 
and  his  brother,  each  one  bearing  a  lighted  taper,  to  the 
nearest  convent,  and  there,  in  the  dimly  lighted  chapel, 
the  glittering  garments  of  her  high  estate  were  laid  upon 
the  altar  as  she  put  on  the  sombre  Franciscan  garb  and 
cut  her  beautiful  hair. 

In  the  fourteenth  century  the  interest  taken  by  women 
in  the  conventual  life  increased,  and  one  of  the  most 


56  WOMAN 

powerful  influences  in  the  religious  life  of  the  time  was 
Catherine  of  Siena,  a  creature  of  light  in  the  midst  of  the 
dark  turmoil  and  strife  which  characterize  this  portion  of 
Italian  history.  Catherine  was  the  beautiful  and  high- 
minded  daughter  of  a  rich  merchant  of  Siena,  and  at  a 
very  early  age  showed  a  decided  inclination  for  the  reli- 
gious life.  At  the  age  of  twelve  she  began  to  have  visions 
and  declared  herself  the  bride  of  Christ;  and  through  her 
firmness  she  overcame  the  opposition  of  her  parents  and 
the  scorn  of  her  friends,  and  made  definite  preparations 
for  withdrawal  from  worldly  things.  A  small  cell  was 
arranged  for  her  use  in  her  father's  house,  and  there  she 
would  retire  for  prayer  and  meditation.  At  Siena,  in  1365, 
at  the  age  of  eighteen,  she  entered  a  Dominican  sisterhood 
of  the  third  order,  where  she  vowed  to  care  for  the  poor, 
the  sick,  and  for  those  in  prison. 

In  1374  she  went  out  in  the  midst  of  the  plague,  not 
only  nursing  the  sick,  but  preaching  to  the  crowds  in  the 
street,  giving  them  words  of  cheer  and  comfort,  and  to 
such  effect — according  to  the  testimony  of  a  contemporary 
writer — that  thousands  were  seen  clustered  about  her, 
intent  upon  what  she  was  saying.  So  great  had  her  wis- 
dom become  that  she  was  called  upon  to  settle  disputes, 
and  invitations  came  for  her  to  preach  in  many  neighbor- 
ing cities.  Furthermore,  on  one  occasion  she  was  sent  on 
the  pope's  business  to  Arezzo  and  Lucca. 

At  this  time  the  popes  were  established  in  Avignon,  in 
southern  France,  and  thither  she  went  on  a  visit  in  1376. 
On  her  departure,  the  chief  magistrate  of  Florence  be- 
sought her  influence  with  the  pope,  who  had  put  him 
under  the  ban  of  the  Church.  At  Avignon  she  was  re- 
ceived with  greatest  consideration  by  the  College  of  Cardi- 
nals, as  well  as  by  the  pope,  for  all  had  confidence  in  her 
good  sense  and  judgment.  The  story  is  told,  however, 


WOMEN  AND  THE  CHURCH  57 

that  some  of  the  prelates  at  the  papal  court,  envious  on 
account  of  her  influence  with  the  pope,  and  wishing  to  put 
her  learning  to  the  test,  engaged  her  in  a  religious  discus- 
sion, hoping  to  trip  her  in  some  matters  of  doctrine  or 
Church  history.  But  she  reasoned  with  the  best  of  them 
so  calmly  and  with  such  evident  knowledge,  that  they 
were  compelled  to  acknowledge  her  great  wisdom.  In  the 
fall  of  that  same  year,  as  the  result  of  her  arguments  and 
representations,  Pope  Gregory  XI.  was  induced  to  go  back 
to  Rome,  the  ancient  seat  of  the  Church.  Catherine  left 
Avignon  before  the  time  fixed  for  the  pope's  departure; 
but  before  returning  to  Siena,  she  went  to  Genoa,  where 
several  of  her  followers  were  very  sick  and  in  need  of  her 
care.  There  in  Genoa,  Gregory,  on  his  way  to  Rome, 
stopped  to  visit  her,  being  in  need  of  further  counsel. 
Such  an  act  on  the  part  of  the  pope  is  ample  proof  of  her 
unusual  ability  and  her  influential  position. 

The  pope  once  in  Rome,  she  entreated  him  to  bring 
peace  to  Italy.  At  his  request,  she  went  to  Florence  to 
restore  order  there.  In  that  city,  however,  she  found  a 
populace  hostile  to  the  papal  party,  and  her  protests  and 
entreaties  were  of  little  avail.  Upon  one  occasion,  the 
crowd  demanded  her  life  by  fire  or  sword,  and  so  fierce 
did  their  opposition  become  that  even  the  pope's  friends 
were  afraid  to  give  her  shelter;  it  was  only  through  her 
great  calmness  and  fearlessness  that  her  life  was  spared. 
Gregory's  death  followed  soon  after,  and  with  his  demise 
Catherine  ceased  to  occupy  so  conspicuous  a  place  in  the 
public  affairs  of  her  time.  Gregory's  successor,  Urban  VI., 
was  clever  enough  to  summon  Catherine  to  Rome  again, 
that  she  might  speak  in  his  behalf  and  overcome  the  out- 
spoken opposition  and  hostility  of  some  of  the  cardinals, 
who  had  declared  in  favor  of  Clement  VII.  in  his  stead,  and 
had  even  gone  so  far  as  to  declare  him  elected.  Catherine 


58  WOMAN 

was  not  able  to  effect  a  conciliation,  however,  and  here 
began  the  papal  schism,  as  the  discontented  cardinals 
continued  their  opposition  with  renewed  vigor  and  main- 
tained Clement  VII.  as  anti-pope.  She  was  more  success- 
ful in  another  affair,  as,  immediately  after  her  trip  to  Rome, 
in  1378  she  induced  the  rebellious  Florentines  to  come  to 
terms  of  peace  with  Urban. 

The  remaining  two  years  of  her  life  were  spent  in  labors 
for  her  Dominican  order,  and  she  visited  several  cities  in 
its  behalf.  At  the  time  of  her  death,  it  was  commonly 
reported  that  her  body  worked  a  number  of  miracles.  The 
authenticity  of  these  supernatural  events,  however,  was 
ever  somewhat  in  doubt,  as  the  Franciscans  always  stoutly 
denied  the  claims  that  were  made  by  the  Dominicans  in 
regard  to  this  affair.  Catherine  was  canonized  in  1461, 
and  April  3Oth  is  the  special  day  in  each  year  devoted  to 
her  memory.  Among  the  other  celebrated  nuns  and  saints 
of  the  fourteenth  century  may  be  mentioned  the  Blessed 
Marina,  who  founded  the  cloister  of  Saint  Matthew  at 
Spoleta;  the  Blessed  Cantuccia,  a  Benedictine  abbess;  and 
the  Holy  Humilitas,  abbess  of  the  Order  of  Vallombrosa 
at  Florence;  but  none  of  them  compare  in  pious  works 
or  in  worldly  reputation  with  the  wise  and  hard-working 
Catherine  of  Siena. 

In  the  fifteenth  century  there  was  a  still  further  increase 
of  the  religious  orders  for  both  men  and  women,  which 
came  with  the  continual  extension  of  the  field  of  religious 
activity;  for  the  mother  Church  was  no  laggard  at  this 
time,  and  never  ceased  to  advance  her  own  interests.  In 
this  general  period  there  were  three  nuns  in  Italy,  each 
bearing  the  name  of  Catherine,  who  by  their  saintly  lives 
did  much  for  the  uplifting  of  those  about  them.  The  first 
of  this  trio  was  Catherine,  daughter  of  Giovanni  Vigeo. 
Though  born  in  Ferrara,  she  was  always  spoken  of  as 


WOMEN  AND  THE  CHURCH  59 

Catherine  of  Bologna,  as  it  was  in  the  latter  city  that  she 
spent  the  greater  part  of  her  long  and  useful  life.  There 
she  was  for  many  years  at  the  head  of  a  prosperous  con- 
vent belonging  to  the  nuns  of  the  Order  of  Clarissa, 
and  there  it  was  that  she  had  her  wonderful  visions  and 
dreamed  the  wonderful  dreams,  which  she  carefully  wrote 
down  with  her  own  hand  in  the  year  1438.  For  more 
than  threescore  years  after  this  period  of  illumination 
she  continued  in  her  position,  where  she  was  ever  an  ex- 
ample of  godliness  and  piety.  Her  death  came  on  March 
9,  1463;  and  although  her  great  services  to  the  cause  of 
religion  were  recognized  at  this  time,  and  openly  com- 
mended by  the  pope,  it  was  not  until  May  22,  1712,  that 
she  was  finally  canonized  by  Clement  IX. 

The  second  Catherine  was  Catherine  of  Pallanza,  which 
is  a  little  town  near  Novara  in  Piedmont,  some  thirty  miles 
west  of  Milan.  During  the  year  of  the  great  pest,  her 
immediate  family  was  completely  wiped  away,  and  she 
was  left  homeless  and  with  few  friends  to  guide  her  with 
words  of  counsel.  Her  nearest  relatives  were  in  Milan, 
and  to  them  she  went  at  first,  until  the  first  bitterness  of 
her  great  grief  had  passed  away.  Then,  acting  upon  a 
decision  which  had  long  been  made,  and  in  spite  of  the 
determined  opposition  of  her  friends,  she  took  the  veil. 
It  was  not  her  intention,  however,  to  enter  one  of  the 
convents  of  Milan  and  live  the  religious  life  in  close  con- 
tact with  others  of  the  same  inclination,  for  she  was  a 
recluse  by  disposition  and  desired,  for  at  least  a  time,  to 
be  left  alone  in  her  meditations.  So  she  went  outside  the 
city  walls  and  established  herself  there  upon  a  hillside,  in 
a  lonely  place,  sheltered  by  a  rude  hut  constructed  in  part 
by  her  own  hands.  Living  in  this  hermit  fashion,  she 
was  soon  an  object  of  comment,  and,  moved  by  her  obvious 
goodness,  many  went  to  consult  her  from  time  to  time  in 


60  WOMAN 

regard  to  their  affairs.  She  soon  developed  a  gift  of  divi- 
nation and  prophecy  which  was  remarkable  even  for  that 
time  of  easy  credulity  in  such  matters,  and  was  soon  able 
to  work  wonders  which,  if  the  traditions  be  true,  were 
little  short  of  miracles.  As  an  illustration  of  her  wonder- 
ful power,  it  may  be  stated  that  it  was  commonly  believed 
that  by  means  of  her  prayers  children  might  be  born  in 
families  where  hitherto  a  marriage  had  been  without  fruit. 
Also,  she  was  able  by  means  of  her  persuasions  to  compel 
thieves  to  return  stolen  goods.  In  spite  of  the  seclusion 
of  her  life,  the  fame  of  Catherine  of  Pallanza  was  soon  so 
great  that  other  women  came  to  live  about  her;  eventually 
these  were  banded  together  in  one  congregation,  governed 
according  to  the  rules  of  Saint  Augustine.  Catherine  died 
in  1478,  at  the  age  of  forty-one,  and  somewhat  later  she 
was  given  a  place  among  the  saints  of  the  Church,  April  6th 
being  the  special  day  devoted  to  her  honor. 

There  can  be  little  doubt  that  Saint  Catherine  of  Pallanza, 
in  her  comparatively  short  life,  really  did  more  for  the 
cause  of  true  religion  than  did  the  pious  Saint  Catherine 
of  Bologna,  who  lived  almost  twice  as  long  within  the 
walls  of  her  quiet  and  tranquil  convent.  The  one,  though 
a  recluse  at  the  beginning  of  her  career,  came  more  into 
actual  contact  with  people  and  things  than  did  the  smooth- 
faced, white-handed  mother  superior  in  all  the  course  of 
her  calm  and  unruffled  existence.  Catherine  of  Bologna 
was  a  model  nun,  a  paragon  of  humility,  devotion,  and 
holiness,  but  she  was  something  quite  apart  from  the 
stirring  life  of  the  time.  Her  visions  and  trances  were 
considered  as  closer  ties  between  herself  and  the  hosts  of 
heaven,  and  she  was  looked  upon  with  awe  and  wonder- 
ment. Catherine  of  Pallanza,  by  word  and  by  precept,  and 
by  means  of  the  wonderful  power  which  she  possessed,  ex- 
erted a  far  wider  influence  for  the  good  of  men  and  women. 


WOMEN  AND  THE  CHURCH  6l 

Catherine  of  Genoa,  the  third  of  this  series,  and  a  mem- 
ber of  the  old  and  distinguished  Fieschi  family,  was  born 
in  1447.  Notwithstanding  her  decided  wish  to  enter  a 
convent,  and  in  spite  of  her  repeated  protestations,  she 
was  compelled  to  marry,  at  the  age  of  seventeen,  Julio 
Adorno,  a  man  of  tastes  uncongenial  to  her.  On  account 
of  her  slender  figure  and  her  delicate  health,  her  parents 
had  felt  warranted  in  their  refusal  to  allow  her  to  become  a 
nun,  but  the  husband  of  their  choice  proved  a  greater  trial  to 
her  strength  and  temper  than  the  cloister  would  have  been. 
After  ten  years  of  suffering  and  brutal  neglect,  Catherine 
became  the  mistress  of  her  own  fortunes,  for  at  this  time  her 
husband  had  the  good  grace  to  die.  With  an  ample  for- 
tune at  her  command,  she  was  not  slow  to  put  it  to  some 
public  good;  and  she  at  once  devoted  her  time  and  energies 
to  the  great  hospital  at  Genoa,  which  was  sadly  in  need 
of  such  aid.  In  those  days  before  the  advent  of  the  trained 
nurse,  the  presence  of  such  a  woman  in  such  a  place  was 
unquestionably  a  source  of  great  aid  and  comfort,  both 
directly  and  indirectly.  Nor  did  she  confine  her  favors  to 
the  inmates  of  this  great  hospital,  for  she  went  about  in 
the  poorer  quarters  of  the  city,  caring  for  the  sick  wher- 
ever they  were  to  be  found.  When  alone,  she  was  much 
given  to  mystic  contemplations,  which  took  shape  as  dia- 
logues between  the  body  and  soul  and  which  were  later 
published  with  a  treatise  on  the  Theology  of  Love  and  a 
complete  life  of  this  noble  woman.  She  died  at  the  age  of 
sixty-three,  on  September  14,  1510. 

The  careers  of  these  three  women  illustrate  in  a  very 
satisfactory  way  the  various  channels  through  which  the 
religious  life  of  the  time  found  its  expression.  The  life  of 
Catherine  of  Bologna  was  practically  apart  from  the  real 
life  of  her  time;  Catherine  of  Pallanza  was  sought  out  by 
people  who  were  in  need  of  her  help,  and  she  was  able  to 


62  WOMAN 

give  them  wise  counsel;  Catherine  of  Genoa,  representing 
the  more  practical  side  of  the  Christian  spirit,  went  among 
the  poor,  the  sick,  and  the  needy,  doing  good  on  every 
hand.  Membership  in  these  women's  orders  was  looked 
upon  as  a  special  and  sacred  office  whereby  the  nun  be- 
came the  mystic  bride  of  the  Church,  and  it  was  no  un- 
common thing  for  the  sisters,  when  racked  and  tortured 
by  the  temptations  of  the  world,  to  fall  into  these  ecstatic 
contemplative  moods  wherein  they  became  possessed  with 
powers  beyond  those  of  earth.  In  that  age  of  quite  uni- 
versal ignorance,  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  the 
emotional  spirit  was  too  strongly  developed  in  all  religious 
observances,  and,  as  we  have  seen,  it  characterized, 
•equally,  the  convent  nun,  the  priestess  of  the  mountain 
side,  and  the  sister  of  mercy.  The  hysterical  element, 
however,  was  often  too  strongly  accentuated,  and  the 
nuns  were  often  too  intent  upon  their  own  salvation  to 
give  heed  to  the  needs  of  those  about  them.  But  the  sum 
total  of  their  influence  was  for  the  best,  and  the  examples 
of  moderation,  self-control,  and  self-sacrifice  which  they 
-afforded  played  no  little  part  in  softening  the  crudities  of 
mediaeval  life  and  paved  the  way  for  that  day  when  re- 
ligion was  to  become  a  rule  of  action  as  well  as  an  article 
of  faith. 


517 
fflSKomeu  of  tfje 


IV 

THE   WOMEN   OF   THE   MIDI 

IT  must  have  been  part  of  the  plan  of  the  universe  that 
the  sunny  southern  provinces  of  France  should  have 
given  to  the  world  a  gay,  happy,  and  intellectual  society 
wherein  was  seen  for  the  first  time  a  concrete  begin- 
ning in  matters  of  social  evolution.  There  the  sky  is 
bright,  the  heavens  are  deep,  the  sun  is  warm,  moun- 
tainous hills  lend  a  purple  haze  to  the  horizon,  and  the  air 
is  filled  with  the  sweet  perfume  of  thyme  and  lavender; 
and  there  came  to  its  maturity  that  brilliant  life  of  the  Midi 
which  has  been  so  often  told  in  song  and  story,  and  which 
furnished  inspiration  for  that  wonderful  poetry  which  has 
come  down  to  us  from  the  troubadours.  During  the 
twelfth  and  thirteenth  centuries  in  particular,  Provence 
was  filled  with  rich  and  populous  cities,  brilliant  feudal 
courts  abounded,  and  noble  lords  and  ladies  not  only  en- 
couraged song  and  poetry,  but  strove  to  become  proficient 
in  the  gay  science,  as  it  was  called,  for  their  own  diversion. 

Under  such  conditions,  it  is  not  surprising  to  find  that 
women  occupy  no  unimportant  place  in  society  and  that 
their  influence  is  far-reaching.  Love  and  its  pursuit 
were  the  chief  concern  of  the  upper  classes;  and  it  was 
but  natural,  when  the  intellectual  condition  of  the  time 
and  its  many  limitations  are  taken  into  consideration. 

65 


66  WOMAN 

What  was  there  to  consume  the  leisure  hours  in  that 
far-away  time?  There  were  no  books,  there  were  no 
newspapers,  as  there  are  now,  accurate  knowledge  was 
impossible  in  scientific  study,  there  was  no  theatre  or 
opera — in  short,  there  were  none  of  the  things  which  form 
the  usual  means  of  relaxation  and  amusement  to-day;  and 
so,  as  a  matter  of  course,  yielding  to  a  most  human  in- 
stinct, the  tender  passion  became  an  all-absorbing  topic, 
and  served  without  exception  as  the  inspiration  for  poetic 
endeavor.  Love  they  could  know  and  feel,  and  of  it  could 
they  sing  with  understanding,  because  they  felt  it  to  be 
real  and  personal,  and  subjectively  true  at  least.  Of  the 
great  external  world,  however,  their  knowledge  was  ex- 
ceedingly crude;  and  the  facts  in  nature  had  become  so 
strangely  distorted,  through  centuries  of  ignorance  and 
superstition,  that  the  solemnly  pronounced  verities  of  the 
time  were  but  a  burlesque  upon  the  truth.  Belief  in  the 
existence  of  the  antipodes  was  considered  by  ecclesiastical 
authority  as  a  sure  proof  of  heresy,  the  philosopher's 
stone  had  been  found,  astrology  was  an  infallible  science, 
and  the  air  was  filled  with  demons  who  were  ever  waiting 
for  an  opportunity  to  steal  away  man's  immortal  soul. 
Geography  did  not  exist  except  in  fancy;  history  could  be 
summed  up  in  the  three  magic  words,  Troy,  Greece,  and 
Rome;  and  the  general  notions  current  regarding  the  world 
and  its  formation  were  fantastic  in  the  extreme.  In  the 
realm  of  natural  history  wondrous  facts  had  come  to  light, 
and  it  was  averred  that  a  stag  lived  to  an  age  of  nine 
hundred  years;  that  a  dove  contemplated  herself  with  her 
right  eye  and  God  with  her  left;  that  the  cockatrice  kills 
animals  by  breathing  upon  them;  that  a  viper  fears  to 
gaze  upon  a  naked  man;  that  the  nature  of  the  wolf  is 
such  that  if  the  man  sees  him  first,  the  wolf  is  deprived  of 
force  and  vigor,  but  if  the  wolf  first  sees  the  man,  his 


THE  WOMEN  OF  THE  MIDI  67 

power  of  speech  will  vanish  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye. 
Furthermore,  there  were  curious  ideas  current  concerning 
the  mystic  power  of  precious  stones,  and  many  were  the 
lapidaries  which  were  written  for  the  edification  of  the 
credulous  world.  The  diamond  was  held  in  somewhat 
doubtful  esteem,  inasmuch  as  the  French  word  diamant, 
minus  its  first  syllable,  signified  a  "lover";  the  beryl,  of 
uncertain  hue,  made  sure  the  love  of  man  and  wife;  and 
Marbodus  is  authority  for  the  statement  that  "the  emerald 
is  found  only  in  a  dry  and  uninhabitable  country,  so  bit- 
terly cold  that  nothing  can  live  there  but  the  griffins  and 
the  one-eyed  arimasps  that  fight  with  them." 

But  the  men  and  women  of  Provence  could  not  forever 
stand  with  mouths  agape  in  eager  wonder  and  expectation; 
these  were  tales  of  interest,  no  doubt,  and  their  truth  was 
not  seriously  questioned,  but  this  was  not  life,  and  they 
knew  it.  There  was  red  blood  in  their  veins,  the  heart- 
beat was  quick  and  strong,  and  love  had  charmed  them 
all.  It  must  not  be  supposed,  however,  that  this  was  a 
weakly  and  effeminate  age,  that  all  were  carpet  knights, 
and  that  strong  and  virile  men  no  longer  could  be  found, 
for  such  was  not  the  case.  All  was  movement  and  action, 
the  interests  of  life  were  many,  and  warfare  was  the  mas- 
culine vocation,  but  in  the  very  midst  of  all  this  turmoil 
and  confusion  there  sprang  up  a  courtly  ideal  of  love  and 
a  reverence  for  women  which  is  almost  without  parallel. 
The  sanctity  of  the  marriage  tie  had  not  been  respected 
during  the  feudal  days,  the  union  for  life  between  men 
and  women  had,  generally,  other  causes  than  any  mutual 
love  which  might  exist  between  the  two,  and  the  right  of 
divorce  was  shamefully  misused.  While  in  other  parts 
of  Europe  women  sought  relief  from  this  intolerable  con- 
dition of  affairs  by  giving  their  love  to  Christ  and  by  be- 
coming His  bride  in  mystic  marriage  through  the  Church, 


68  WOMAN 

in  bright  Provence,  aided  by  the  order  of  chivalry,  they 
were  able  to  do  something  for  the  ideals  of  love  in  a  more 
definite  way  and  to  bring  back  to  earth  that  all-absorbing 
passion  which  women  had  been  bestowing  upon  the  Lord 
of  Heaven.  Inasmuch  as  the  real  marriage  of  the  time 
was  but  a  manage  de  convenance,  which  gave  the  wife  to 
the  husband  without  regard  for  her  own  inclinations,  and 
without  consideration  for  the  finer  things  of  sense  and  sen- 
timent which  should  find  a  perfect  harmony  in  such  rela- 
tionship, it  came  to  be  a  well-recognized  fact  that  love  and 
marriage  were  two  things  quite  distinct  and  different.  A 
wife  was  expected  to  show  a  material  fidelity  to  her  lord, 
keep  her  honor  unstained,  and  devote  herself  to  his  ser- 
vice; and  this  done,  she  was  allowed  to  bestow  upon  a 
lover  her  soul  and  better  spirit. 

A  quaint  story  with  regard  to  the  Chevalier  de  Bayard, 
though  of  somewhat  later  date,  will  serve  to  illustrate  this 
condition  of  affairs.  The  brave  knight  had  been  brought 
up  during  his  youth  in  the  palace  of  the  Duke  of  Savoy, 
and  there,  mingling  with  the  other  young  people  of  the 
house,  he  had  seen  and  soon  loved  a  beautiful  young  girl 
who  was  in  the  service  of  the  duchess.  This  love  was 
returned,  and  they  would  soon  have  married  in  spite  of 
their  poverty  if  a  cruel  fate  had  not  parted  them.  Bayard 
was  sent  as  a  page  to  the  court  of  Charles  VIII.,  and 
during  his  absence  his  ladylove,  by  the  duke's  order,  was 
married  to  the  Lord  of  Fluxas.  This  Bayard  found  out  to 
his  bitter  sorrow  when  he  returned  some  years  later,  but 
the  lady,  as  a  virtuous  woman,  wishing  to  show  him  that 
her  honest  affection  for  him  was  still  alive,  overwhelmed 
him  with  so  many  courteous  acts  that  more  would  have 
been  impossible.  "Monseigneur  de  Bayard,  my  friend," 
she  said,  "this  is  the  home  of  your  youth,  and  it  would  be 
but  sorry  treatment  if  you  should  fail  to  show  us  here  your 


THE  WOMEN  OF  THE  MIDI  69 

knightly  skill,  reports  of  which  have  come  from  Italy  and 
France."  The  poor  gentleman  could  but  reply:  "What 
is  your  wish,  madame?"  Whereat  she  said:  "It  seems 
to  me,  Monseigneur  de  Bayard,  that  you  would  do  well  to 
give  a  splendid  tourney  in  the  city."  "Madame,"  he 
said,  "it  shall  be  done.  You  are  the  lady  in  this  world 
who  first  conquered  my  heart  to  her  service,  but  now  I  well 
know  that  I  can  naught  expect  except  your  kiss  of  wel- 
come and  the  touch  of  your  soft  hand.  Death  would  I 
prefer  to  your  dishonor,  and  that  I  do  not  seek;  but  give 
me,  I  pray  you,  your  muff."  The  next  morning  heralds 
proclaimed  that  the  lists  would  be  opened  in  Carignan, 
and  that  the  Chevalier  de  Bayard  would  joust  with  all 
who  might  appear,  the  prize  to  be  his  lady's  muff,  from 
which  now  hung  a  precious  ruby  worth  a  hundred  ducats. 
The  lists  were  run,  and  after  the  last  blare  of  trumpet  and 
clatter  of  charger's  hoof,  the  two  judges,  one  of  them  being 
the  Lord  of  Fluxas,  came  to  Bayard  with  the  prize.  He, 
blushing,  refused  this  great  honor,  saying  he  had  done 
nothing  worthy  of  it,  but  that  in  all  truth  it  belonged  to 
Madame  de  Fluxas,  who  had  lent  him  the  muff  and  who 
had  been  his  inspiration.  The  Lord  of  Fluxas,  knowing 
the  chivalry  of  this  great  knight,  felt  no  pang  of  jealousy 
whatever,  and  went  straightway  to  his  lady,  bearing  the 
prize  and  the  courtly  words  of  the  champion.  Madame  de 
Fluxas,  with  secret  joy  but  outward  calm,  replied:  "Mon- 
seigneur de  Bayard  has  honored  me  with  his  fair  speech 
and  highbred  courtesy,  and  this  muff  will  I  ever  keep  in 
honor  of  him."  That  night  there  was  feasting  and  dan- 
cing in  the  halls,  next  day,  departure.  The  knight  went 
to  take  leave  of  his  lady,  with  heavy  heart,  and  many 
bitter  tears  they  shed.  This  honest  love  endured  until 
death  parted  them,  and  no  year  passed  that  presents  were 
not  exchanged  between  them. 


70  WOMAN 

So  there  was  a  social  life  at  this  time  and  place  which 
was  filled  with  refinement  and  courtesy,  and  it  centred 
about  the  ladies  of  the  courts.  Each  troubadour,  and 
many  of  them  were  brave  knights  as  well,  sought  to  sing 
the  praises  of  his  lady,  devote  himself  to  her  service,  and 
do  her  bidding  in  all  things  great  and  small.  There  was  a 
proverb  in  Provence,  it  is  true,  which  declared  that  "A 
man's  shadow  is  worth  a  hundred  women,"  and  another 
saying,  "  Water  spoils  wine,  carts  spoil  roads,  and  women 
spoil  men  ";  but,  in  spite  of  all  this,  devotion  to  women  was 
developed  to  a  most  unusual  degree,  and  there  was  even 
an  attempt  made  to  fix  the  nature  of  such  soft  bondage  by 
rule  and  regulation.  Southern  natures  were  so  impetuous 
that  some  checks  upon  the  practice  of  this  chivalric  love 
seemed  to  be  imperative,  as  thinking  people  felt  that  love 
should  not  go  unbridled.  Justin  H.  Smith,  who  has  written 
so  entertainingly  of  the  Troubadours  at  Home,  says  that  it 
was  their  expedient  to  make  love  a  "science  and  an  art. 
Rules  were  devised,  and  passion  was  to  be  bound  with  a 
rigid  etiquette  like  that  of  chivalry  or  social  intercourse. 
It  was  to  be  mainly  an  affair  of  sentiment  and  honor,  not 
wholly  Platonic  to  be  sure,  but  thoroughly  desensualized. 
Four  stages  were  marked  off  in  the  lover's  progress:  first, 
he  adored  for  a  season  without  venturing  to  confess  it; 
secondly,  he  adored  as  a  mere  suppliant;  thirdly,  he  adored 
as  one  who  knew  that  the  lady  was  not  indifferent;  and 
finally,  he  became  the  accepted  lover,  that  is  to  say,  the 
chosen  servitor  and  vassal  of  his  lady,  her  special  knight." 

To  the  coarse  and  somewhat  stupid  barons  of  the  time 
infidelity  was  an  act  of  absolute  self-abandonment,  and 
they  felt  in  no  way  jealous  of  these  fine  knights  who  were 
more  in  sympathy  with  their  wives  than  they  could  ever 
hope  to  be.  So  the  lover  became  an  accepted  person  who 
had  rights  which  the  wife  did  not  conceal  and  which  the 


THE  WOMEN  OF  THE  MIDI  "J\ 

husband  did  not  deny.  The  husband  literally  owned  the 
body  of  his  wife,  it  is  true,  but  the  lover  had  her  soul, 
for  the  feudal  customs  gave  to  the  woman  no  moral  power 
over  her  husband,  while  the  code  of  love,  on  the  other 
hand,  made  of  woman  the  guide  and  associate  of  man.  It 
was  all  a  play  world,  of  course;  the  troubadour  knight 
and  lover  would  discuss  by  means  of  the  tenso,  which 
was  a  dialogue  in  song,  all  sorts  of  questions  with  his  lady, 
or  with  another  of  his  kind,  while  the  slow,  thick-headed 
husbands  dozed  in  their  chairs,  dreaming  of  sudden  alarums 
and  the  din  of  battle.  Here,  however,  was  afforded  oppor- 
tunity for  a  quick  display  of  wit,  and  here  was  shown 
much  nimbleness  of  mind,  and,  all  in  all,  woman  profited  by 
the  intercourse  and  became,  as  has  been  said,  more  than  the 
"link  between  generations,"  which  was  all  she  had  been 
before.  It  was  in  the  great  hall,  about  the  wide  hearth, 
after  the  evening  meal,  that  the  harp  was  sounded  and  the 
tenso  was  begun  which  was  of  such  interest  to  the  singer 
and  his  fair  chatelaine;  and  among  the  questions  of  serious 
import  which  they  then  discussed,  the  following  will  serve 
by  way  of  illustration:  "Which  is  better,  to  have  wisdom, 
or  success  with  the  ladies?"  "Which  is  better,  to  win  a 
lady  by  skill  or  by  boldness?"  "Which  are  greater,  the 
joys  or  the  sorrows  of  love?"  "  Which  brings  the  greater 
renown,  Yes  or  No?"  "Can  true  love  exist  between 
married  persons?"  Futile  and  ridiculous  as  all  this  may 
seem  to  us  to-day,  the  very  fact  that  women  were  here 
put  upon  the  same  footing  as  the  men,  even  upon  a  supe- 
rior footing,  as  great  deference  was  shown  them  by  their 
knightly  lovers,  all  this  was  but  an  indication  of  the  fact 
that  woman's  place  in  society  was  surely  advancing. 
Thus,  outside  of  marriage  and  even  opposed  to  it,  was 
realized  that  which  constitutes  its  true  essence,  the  fusion 
of  soul  and  mutual  improvement;  and  since  that  time  love 


72  WOMAN 

and  marriage  have  more  often  been  found  together,  and 
the  notion  has  been  growing  with  the  ages  that  the  one  is 
the  complement  of  the  other.  Marriage,  as  has  been  said, 
was  but  an  imperfect  institution  at  this  time,  and  in  many 
cases  it  appears  that  the  code  of  love,  as  it  may  be  called, 
was  quite  superior  to  the  civil  code.  For  example,  the 
feudal  law  allowed  a  man  to  beat  his  wife  moderately,  as 
occasion  required,  but  respect  was  one  of  the  fundamental 
laws  imposed  by  the  code  of  love.  Again,  the  civil  law 
said  that  a  woman  whose  husband  had  been  absent  for 
ten  years,  and  whose  whereabouts  was  unknown,  had 
the  right  to  marry  again,  but  the  code  of  love  decreed 
that  the  absence  of  a  lover,  no  matter  how  prolonged,  was 
not  sufficient  cause  for  giving  up  the  attachment.  In  short, 
in  this  world  of  gallantry  the  ideals  of  love  were  higher 
than  they  were  in  the  world  of  lawful  wedlock,  and  the 
reason  was  not  far  to  seek. 

It  cannot  be  said,  however,  that  these  lofty  ideals  of 
Platonic  affection  which  so  strongly  characterize  this  bril- 
liant and  courtly  society  were  always  carried  out  to  the 
letter,  and  it  must  be  admitted  with  regret  that  there  are 
many  cases  on  record  where  the  restraints  and  formalities 
of  etiquette  were  insufficient  to  check  the  fateful  passion 
when  once  its  fires  were  burning.  Every  forbidden  in- 
trigue was  fraught  with  danger;  indeed,  the  injured  hus- 
band is  sometimes  alluded  to  as  Monsieur  Danger,  but 
here,  as  elsewhere,  stolen  sweets  were  sweetest,  and  the 
risk  was  taken.  Vengeance,  however,  followed  discovery, 
and  swift  was  the  retribution  which  overtook  the  trouba- 
dour when  guilty  of  faithless  conduct.  The  tragic  story 
of  Guillem  de  Cabestaing,  who  came  from  that  district  of 
Roussillon  which  is  said  to  be  famous  for  its  red  wine  and 
its  black  sheep,  will  serve  to  show  how  love  could  not  be 
bound  by  laws  of  honor  and  how  quick  punishment  came 


THE  WOMEN  OF  THE  MIDI  73 

to  pay  the  score.  Guillem,  the  son  of  a  poor  knight, 
came  at  the  age  of  twelve  to  enter  the  service  of  my  lord 
Raimon  of  Roussillon,  who  was  also  his  father's  lord,  and 
there  in  the  castle  he  began  his  education.  An  esquire  he 
became,  and  he  followed  his  master  in  peace  and  in  war- 
fare, perfected  himself  in  the  gentler  arts  of  song  and 
music,  and  paid  no  small  attention  to  his  own  person, 
which  was  fair  and  comely.  On  an  evil  day,  however, 
my  lord  Raimon  transferred  young  Guillem  to  the  service 
of  his  wife,  the  Lady  Margarida,  a  young  and  sweet-faced 
girl  who  was  famed  for  her  beauty,  and  then  began  the 
love  between  them.  Raimon  was  soon  jealous  and  then 
suspicious,  but  false  words  from  false  lips  allayed  suspi- 
cion for  a  time.  Then  Guillem,  in  a  song  composed  at  his 
lady's  command,  revealed  the  love  which  united  them, 
though  all  unconsciously,  and  then  the  end  was  near. 
One  day,  Guillem  was  summoned  from  the  palace  into 
the  dark  wood  by  his  master,  but  when  Raimon  returned 
Guillem  did  not  come  with  him;  in  his  stead  was  a  ser- 
vant, who  carried  something  concealed  beneath  his  cloak. 
After  the  dinner,  which  had  been  attended  with  constant 
jest  and  laughter,  Raimon  informed  his  wife  that  she  had 
just  eaten  the  heart  of  the  luckless  troubadour!  Summon- 
ing her  words  with  a  quick  self-control,  the  Lady  Margarida 
vowed  that  never  after  would  she  taste  of  meat,  whereat 
Raimon  grew  red  with  rage  and  sought  to  take  her  life. 
But  she  fled  quickly  to  a  high  tower  and  threw  herself 
down  to  death.  That  is  the  tragedy,  but  this  fidelity  in 
death  received  its  reward;  for  when  the  king  heard  the 
tale,  and  who  did  not,  as  it  was  soon  spread  abroad, 
Raimon  was  stripped  of  all  his  possessions  and  thrown 
into  a  dungeon,  while  lover  and  lady  were  buried  together 
at  the  church  door  at  Perpignan,  and  a  yearly  festival  was 
ordained  in  their  honor. 


74  WOMAN 

For  many  hundreds  of  years  after  the  decay  of  all  this 
brilliant  life  in  southern  France,  the  statement  was  re- 
peated that  courts  of  love  had  been  organized  in  gay 
Provence,  which  were  described  as  assemblies  of  beautiful 
women,  sitting  in  judgment  on  guilty  lovers  and  deciding 
amorous  questions,  but  the  relentless  search  of  the  modern 
scholar  has  proved  beyond  a  doubt  that  no  such  courts 
ever  existed.  A  certain  code  of  love  there  was  most  cer- 
tainly, of  which  the  troubadours  sang,  and  whose  regula- 
tions were  matters  of  general  conduct  as  inspired  by  the 
spirit  of  courtesy  and  gallantry  which  was  current  at 
the  time,  and  very  often  were  questions  relating  to  the 
tender  passion  discussed  in  extenso  by  the  fairest  ladies  of 
the  south,  but  more  than  that  cannot  be  said  with  truth. 
The  fiction  is  a  pretty  one,  and  among  those  who  are  said 
to  have  presided  at  these  amorous  tribunals  are  Queen 
Eleanor,  the  Countess  of  Narbonne,  and  the  Countess  of 
Champagne,  and  Richard  Coeur  de  Lion  has  even  been 
mentioned  in  this  capacity.  The  courts  were  held  at 
Pierrefeu,  Digne,  and  Avignon  according  to  tradition, 
women  alone  could  act  as  judges,  and  appeals  might  be 
made  from  one  court  to  another.  This  tradition  but  goes 
to  show  that  after  the  decay  of  the  Provencal  civilization, 
its  various  ideas  and  ideals  were  drawn  up  into  formal 
documents,  that  the  spirit  of  the  age  might  be  preserved, 
and  they  in  turn  were  taken  by  following  generations  in 
good  faith  as  coexistent  with  the  things  which  they 
describe. 

It  was  but  natural  that  in  a  state  of  society  like  the  one 
mentioned,  women  should  long  to  show  themselves  pos- 
sessed of  poetic  gifts  as  well  as  men.  It  must  not  be  sup- 
posed that  the  wife  of  a  great  baron  occupied  an  easy 
position,  however,  and  had  many  leisure  hours,  as  her 
wifely  duties  took  no  little  time  and  energy,  and  it  was 


THE  WOMEN  OF  THE  MIDI  75 

her  place  to  hold  in  check  the  rude  speech  and  manners  of 
the  warlike  nobles  who  thronged  the  castle  halls,  as  well 
as  to  put  some  limit  to  the  bold  words  and  glances  of  the 
troubadours,  who  were  often  hard  to  repress.  Her  pre- 
vious education  had  been  bestowed  with  care,  however, 
the  advantages  of  a  formal  and  punctilious  etiquette  had 
been  preached  more  than  once,  and  she  was  even  advised 
that  the  enemy  of  all  her  friends  should  find  her  civil- 
spoken;  so,  my  lady  managed  her  difficult  affairs  with  tact 
and  skill,  and  contrived  in  many  cases  to  acquire  such 
fame  for  her  moderation  and  her  wisdom  that  many  poets 
sang  her  praises.  It  was  her  pleasure  also  to  harbor  these 
troubadours  who  sang  her  praises,  and  learn  from  them 
the  secrets  of  their  art;  and  in  this  pleasant  intercourse  it 
often  chanced  that  she  was  inspired  by  the  god  of  song, 
and  vied  with  them  in  poesy.  The  names  of  eighteen 
such  women  have  come  down  to  us,  and  fragments  from 
most  of  them  are  extant,  though  the  Countess  of  Dia 
seems  the  most  important  of  them  all,  as  five  of  her  short 
poems  are  now  known  to  exist.  The  Lady  Castelloza 
must  be  named  soon  after,  for  her  wit  and  her  accom- 
plishments. She  once  reminded  a  thoughtless  lover  that 
if  he  should  allow  her  to  pine  away  and  die  for  love  of 
him,  he  would  be  committing  a  monstrous  crime  "before 
God  and  men."  Clara  of  Anduse  must  not  be  forgotten 
in  this  list,  and  she  it  was  who  conquered  the  cold  indiffer- 
ence of  the  brilliant  troubadour  Uc  de  Saint-Cyr;  still, 
however  numerous  her  contributions  to  poetry  may  have 
been,  but  one  song  remains  to  us,  and  that  is  contained  in 
a  manuscript  of  the  fourteenth  century.  It  should  be  said 
that  the  reason  for  the  small  amount  of  poetry  which  these 
women  have  left  behind  them  is  easily  explained.  Talents 
they  may  have  possessed  and  poetical  ability  in  abun- 
dance, but  there  was  no  great  incentive  to  work,  inasmuch 


76  WOMAN 

as  poetry  offered  them  no  career  such  as  it  opened  up  to 
the  men.  A  troubadour  sang  at  the  command  of  his  noble 
patron,  but  with  the  women  poetry  was  not  an  employ- 
ment, but  a  necessity  for  self-expression.  It  is  altogether 
probable  that  their  efforts  were  for  the  most  part  the 
result  of  a  sudden  inspiration,  their  mirth  or  their  grief 
was  poured  forth,  and  then  they  relapsed  into  silence. 
Other  than  in  this  way  the  voice  of  the  woman  was  rarely 
heard  in  song,  unless  she  took  part  in  the  tenso,  or  song 
of  contention,  and  then  her  words  were  uttered  as  they 
came,  without  premeditation,  and  were  lost  as  soon  as 
sung. 

The  city  of  Toulouse  was  a  centre  for  much  of  the  liter- 
ary life  of  the  time,  and  it  was  during  the  reign  of  Count 
Raimon  VI.,  who  was  a  poet  of  no  small  merit,  that  the 
art  of  the  troubadours  reached  its  culmination.  For  half  a 
generation,  it  is  said,  his  court  was  crowded  with  the;e 
poets,  and  he  dwelt  with  them  and  they  with  him  in 
brotherly  affection.  With  the  terrible  Albigensian  Cru- 
sade, the  voice  of  the  singer  was  no  longer  heard  in  the 
land,  and  the  poetic  fire,  which  had  burned  with  so  fierce 
a  blaze  at  times,  smouldered  for  long  years,  until  in  the 
beginning  of  the  fourteenth  century  the  flames  burst  forth 
anew.  At  that  time  a  company  of  poets,  and  they  were 
of  bourgeois  origin  and  not  of  the  nobility,  determined  to 
take  vigorous  measures  to  restore  the  art  of  the  troubadour 
to  its  former  high  position,  and  to  this  end  they  founded 
the  College  du  Gay  Scavoir,  which  was  to  support  and 
maintain  annually  in  Toulouse  a  poetic  tournament  called 
Les  Jeux  Floraux,  wherein  the  prizes  were  to  consist  of 
flowers  of  gold  and  silver.  With  the  definite  establish- 
ment of  these  Floral  Games  the  name  of  a  woman  has 
been  intertwined  in  most  curious  fashion;  and  although 
many  facts  are  recorded  of  her  life  and  deeds,  there  are 


THE  WOMEN  OF  THE  MIDI  77 

those  who  deny  that  she  ever  lived.  This  remarkable 
woman  was  called  Clemence  Isaure,  and  the  story  has 
grown  up  that  some  years  after  the  founding  of  the  Jeux 
Floraux  she  left  a  sum  of  money  in  trust  which  was  to 
serve  as  a  permanent  endowment  for  this  most  illustrious 
institution  of  her  native  city.  Then  it  was  that  the  Col- 
lege du  Gay  Scavoir  became  a  thing  of  permanence,  and 
brilliant  were  the  fetes  which  were  celebrated  under  its 
auspices.  First,  a  golden  violet  was  bestowed  upon  the 
victor  in  these  poetic  contests,  and  the  winner  was  de- 
creed a  Bachelor  of  Poetry;  then,  two  other  flowers  were 
added,  the  eglantine  and  the  marigold,  and  he  who  won 
two  prizes  was  given  the  degree  of  Master;  while  he  who 
won  all  three  became  forthwith  a  Doctor. 

To  prove  that  Clemence  Isaure  really  did  exist  in  Tou- 
louse a  tomb  was  shown  which  seemed  to  bear  her  name; 
and  so  strongly  rooted  is  this  belief,  that  her  statue  is  held 
in  reverence,  and  every  year  in  May,  even  to  this  day,  when 
the  date  for  the  Jeux  Floraux  arrives,  the  first  thing  on  the 
programme  for  that  solemn  occasion  is  a  formal  eulogy  in 
honor  of  this  distinguished  patroness.  More  than  that, 
in  the  garden  of  the  Luxembourg  Palace  in  Paris,  in  that 
semicircle  of  twenty  marble  statues  grouped  about  the 
parterre  and  representing  some  of  the  most  illustrious 
women  of  France,  Clemence  Isaure  has  an  honored  place, 
and  her  counterfeit  presentment  by  the  sculptor  Preault  is 
considered  one  of  the  finest  of  the  number. 

In  support  of  the  claim  that  such  a  woman  never  existed, 
and  in  explanation  of  the  tradition  itself,  the  learned  ones 
inform  us  that  with  the  definite  establishment  of  these 
Floral  Games  the  good  citizens  of  Toulouse  thought  it 
best  to  follow  in  the  footsteps  of  their  bold  and  plain- 
spoken  troubadour  ancestors  in  a  somewhat  timid  manner, 
and  the  poems  which  were  then  written  were  not  addressed 


78  WOMAN 

to  some  fair  lady  in  real  life,  but  to  the  Holy  Virgin,  who 
was  frequently  addressed  as  Clemenza  [pity],  and  from 
this  word  the  story  took  its  rise.  After  a  certain  lapse  of 
time,  Clemenza,  personified  so  often  in  their  impassioned 
strains,  became  a  real  person  to  their  southern  imagina- 
tions, and  a  tomb  was  conveniently  found  which  seemed 
to  settle  the  matter  without  question.  It  is  even  asserted 
that  the  city  of  Toulouse  is  enjoying  to-day  other  bequests 
which  were  made  to  it  by  Clemence  Isaure,  and  that  there 
is  no  more  reason  for  doubting  her  existence  than  for 
doubting  the  existence  of  any  other  historical  character  of 
long  ago.  In  any  event,  the  Floral  Games  are  still  held 
yearly,  the  seven  poets  have  become  forty  in  number, 
and  they  compose  a  dignified  Academy,  which  has  some 
ten  thousand  francs  a  year  to  bestow  in  prizes.  And 
the  number  of  the  prizes  has  been  increased,  as  now 
five  different  flowers  of  gold  and  five  of  silver  are  be- 
stowed each  for  poetry  of  a  certain  kind,  and  in  addi- 
tion there  is  a  gold  jasmine  which  is  awarded  to  the  most 
excellent  prose  article,  and  a  silver  pink  which  is  a  sort  of 
prize  at  large,  and  which  may  be  given  for  a  composition 
of  any  character. 

This  belief  in  the  actual  existence  of  Clemence  Isaure  is 
still  held  by  many,  and,  in  fact,  the  legend  seems  stronger 
than  the  facts  adduced  against  it;  but  whatever  the  truth 
may  be,  the  story  symbolizes  in  a  most  beautiful  and  fitting 
way  the  part  which  woman  has  played  in  this  Provencal 
country  in  the  encouragement  given  to  song  and  poetry. 
It  was  the  women  who  gave  the  real  encouragement  to 
the  troubadours  and  inspired  them  to  their  greatest  efforts, 
and  it  seems  but  poetic  justice,  at  least,  that  in  Toulouse 
the  only  existing  institution  representative  of  those  old 
troubadour  days  should  claim  a  woman  as  its  greatest 
patron. 


V 
Influence  of  SUSomen  in  lEarl|)  literature 


INFLUENCE  OF  WOMEN  IN  EARLY  LITERATURE 

"  NINE  times  now  since  my  birth,  the  heaven  of  light 
had  turned  almost  to  the  same  point  in  its  own  gyration, 
when  the  glorious  Lady  of  my  mind — who  was  called 
Beatrice  by  many  who  knew  not  what  to  call  her — first 
appeared  before  my  eyes.  She  had  already  been  in  this 
life  so  long,  that  in  its  course  the  starry  heaven  had  moved 
toward  the  region  of  the  East  one  of  the  twelve  parts  of  a 
degree;  so  that  at  about  the  beginning  of  her  ninth  year 
she  appeared  to  me,  and  I  near  the  end  of  my  ninth 
year  saw  her.  She  appeared  to  me  clothed  in  a  most 
noble  color,  a  modest  and  becoming  crimson,  and  she  was 
girt  and  adorned  in  such  wise  as  befitted  her  very  youthful 
age.  At  that  instant,  I  can  truly  say  that  the  spirit  of  life, 
which  dwells  in  the  most  secret  chamber  of  the  heart, 
began  to  tremble  with  such  violence  that  it  appeared  fear- 
fully in  the  least  pulses,  and,  trembling,  said  these  words: 
Ecce  deus  fortior  me,  qui  veniens  dominabitur  mihi  [Behold 
a  god  stronger  than  I,  who,  coming,  shall  rule  over  me]. 
At  that  instant  the  spirit  of  the  soul,  which  dwells  in  the 
high  chamber  to  which  all  the  spirits  of  the  senses  carry 
their  perceptions,  began  to  marvel  greatly,  and,  speaking 
especially  to  the  spirit  of  the  sight,  said  these  words: 
Apparuit  jam  beatitudo  vestra  [Now  has  appeared  your 
bliss].  At  that  instant  the  natural  spirit,  which  dwells  in 

81 


82  WOMAN 

that  part  where  our  nourishment  is  supplied,  began  to 
weep,  and,  weeping,  said  these  words:  Heu  miser!  quid 
frequenter  impeditus  ero  deimeps  [Woe  is  me,  wretched! 
Because  often  from  this  time  forth  shall  I  be  hindered]." 
Nowhere  in  all  literature  can  be  found  a  clearer  state- 
ment of  the  spiritual  evolution  which  was  going  on  in  the 
minds  of  men  with  respect  to  women,  at  the  close  of 
the  Middle  Ages,  than  that  given  in  the  foregoing  passage 
from  Dante's  Vita  Nuova — taken  from  Professor  Norton's 
finished  translation.  The  spirit  of  the  amatory  poetry  of 
the  gay  troubadours  of  Provence  had  found  its  way  into 
Italy,  but  it  was  its  more  spiritual  side  which  was  to  make 
the  greater  impression  upon  the  national  literature  at  this 
early  stage  of  its  development.  The  mystic  marriage  with 
the  Church  which  had  consoled  so  many  women  in  dis- 
tress, and  which  had  removed  them  from  the  sin  and  con- 
fusion of  the  hurly-burly  world  to  a  life  of  quiet  joy  and 
peace,  had  slowly  been  exerting  a  more  general  and  secular 
influence  which  first  bore  fruit  in  the  notions  of  Platonic 
friendship  which  had  been  discussed;  then  came  deference 
and  respect  and  a  truer  understanding  of  woman's  true 
position.  But  something  was  wanting  in  this  profession  of 
love  and  respect  which  came  from  the  singers  of  Provence; 
their  words  were  ready  and  their  speech  was  smooth,  but 
all  their  knightly  grace  of  manner  could  not  conceal  the 
fact  that  Venus  was  their  goddess.  They  were  sincere, 
doubtless,  but  all  that  they  sang  was  so  lyric,  subjective, 
and  personal  in  its  essence  that  they  failed  to  strike  the 
deepest  chords  of  human  feeling  or  display  that  high  seri- 
ousness which  is  indicative  of  real  dignity  of  character. 
Love  had  been  the  despot  whose  slightest  caprice  was 
law — in  obeying  his  commands  one  could  do  no  wrong. 
Woman  became  the  arbiter  of  man's  destiny  in  so  far  as 
the  fervent  lover,  in  his  ardor,  was  glad  to  do  her  bidding. 


INFLUENCE  OF  WOMEN  IN  EARLY  LITERATURE       83 

The  troubadour  Miravel  has  told  us  that  when  a  man  made 
a  failure  of  his  life,  all  were  prone  to  say:  "  It  is  evident 
that  he  did  not  care  for  the  ladies."  There  is  a  worldly 
tone  in  this  remark  which  grates  upon  the  ear — it  does 
not  ring  clear  and  true,  although  the  Provencal  poets  had 
improved  the  manners  of  their  time  and  had  introduced  a 
highbred  courtesy  into  their  dealings  with  women  which 
was  in  itself  a  great  step  in  advance.  It  is  related  that 
when  William  the  Conqueror  first  saw  Emma,  his  be- 
trothed, he  seized  her  roughly  in  his  arms  and  threw  her 
to  the  ground  as  an  indication  of  affection;  but  the  trouba- 
dour was  wont  to  kneel  before  his  lady  and  pray  for  grace 
and  power  to  win  her  approbation.  Yet,  under  the  courtly 
form  of  manner  and  speech,  it  is  too  often  the  sensual 
conception  of  womankind  which  lurks  in  the  background, 
and  there  is  little  evidence  to  show  that  there  was  any 
general  belief  in  the  chastening  power  of  the  love  of  a 
good  woman — a  power  which  might  be  of  positive  value 
in  character  building. 

The  spiritual  possibilities  latent  in  this  higher  conception 
seem,  however,  to  have  been  grasped  by  some  of  the  Ital- 
ian poets  of  the  early  Renaissance,  and  here  we  find  a 
devotion  to  women  which  comes  not  from  the  heart  alone, 
but  from  the  soul  as  well.  Dante's  "  natural  spirit"  was 
but  the  sensual  nature,  and  well  might  it  cry  out  when  the 
"spirit  of  life"  began  to  feel  the  secret  commotion  of 
the  "spirit  of  the  soul":  "Woe  is  me,  wretched!  Be- 
cause often  from  this  time  forth  shall  I  be  hindered  in  my 
work."  And  so  it  was.  With  this  first  somewhat  broad 
conception  of  the  dignity  of  womanhood  there  was  a  new 
incentive  to  manly  endeavor;  and  there  came  into  the 
world,  in  the  power  and  might  of  the  great  Florentine  poet, 
a  majesty  of  character  which  fair  Provence  could  never 
have  produced.  Immediately  before  Dante's  time  we  see 


84  WOMAN 

glimmerings  of  this  new  sentiment  in  the  work  of  Guido 
Cavalcanti  and  of  Cino  da  Pistoja.  Cavalcanti,  being 
exiled  from  Florence,  went  on  a  visit  to  the  shrine  of 
Saint  James  of  Compostella;  and  upon  the  way,  passing 
through  Toulouse,  he  was  captivated  by  a  beautiful  Span- 
ish girl,  whom  he  has  made  celebrated  under  the  name  of 
Mandetta: 

"  In  un  boschetto  trovai  pastorella, 

Pill  che  la  Stella  bella  al  mio  parere, 

Capegli  avea  biondetti  e  ricciutelli." 

It  is  true  that  in  his  work  Cavalcanti  shows  many  of 
the  stilted  mannerisms  which  were  common  to  the  trouba- 
dours; but  such  expressions  as  "to  her,  every  virtue 
bows,"  and  "the  mind  of  man  cannot  soar  so  high,  nor  is 
it  sufficiently  purified  by  divine  grace  to  understand  and 
appreciate  all  her  perfections,"  point  the  way  toward  a 
greater  sincerity.  His  chief  work  was  a  long  Canzone 
sopra  I'Amore,  which  was  so  deep  and  philosophic  that 
seven  weighty  commentaries  in  both  Latin  and  Italian 
have  as  yet  failed  to  sound  all  its  depths.  In  the  story  of 
the  early  love  of  Cino  da  Pistoja  for  Ricciarda  dei  Selvaggi 
there  is  a  genuine  and  homely  charm  which  makes  us  feel 
that  here  indeed  true  love  had  found  a  place.  Ricciarda — 
or  Selvaggia,  as  Cino  calls  her — was  the  daughter  of  a 
noble  family  of  Pistoja,  her  father  having  been  gonfaniere 
and  leader  of  the  Bianchi  faction,  and  it  appears  that  she 
also  was  famed  for  her  poetic  gifts.  For  a  time  she  and 
Cino  kept  their  love  a  secret  from  the  world,  but  their 
poems  to  each  other  at  this  time  show  it  to  have  been 
upon  a  high  plane.  Finally,  the  parents  of  Ricciarda  were 
banished  from  Pistoja  by  the  Neri,  and  in  their  flight  they 
took  refuge  in  a  small  fortress  perched  near  the  summit  of 
the  Apennines,  where  they  were  joined  by  Cino,  who  had 
determined  to  share  their  fortunes.  There  the  spring 


INFLUENCE  OF  WOMEN  IN  EARLY  LITERATURE       85 

turned  into  summer,  and  the  summer  into  autumn,  and 
the  days  sped  happily — days  which  were  later  called  the 
happiest  of  the  poet's  whole  life.  The  two  young  people 
roamed  the  hills  together,  or  took  their  share  in  the  house- 
hold duties,  and  the  whole  picture  seems  to  breathe  forth 
an  air  of  reality  and  truth  which  far  removes  it  from  that 
atmosphere  of  comic-opera  love  and  passion  which  seemed 
to  fill  the  Midi.  When  the  winter  came,  the  hardship  of 
this  mountain  life  commenced;  the  winds  grew  too  keen, 
and  the  young  girl  soon  began  to  show  the  effects  of  the 
want  and  misery  to  which  she  was  exposed.  Finally,  the 
end  came;  and  there  Cino  and  the  parents,  grieving,  laid 
her  to  her  rest,  in  a  sheltered  valley.  The  pathos  of  this 
story  needs  no  word  of  explanation,  and  Cino's  grief  is 
best  shown  by  an  act  of  his  later  years.  Long  afterward, 
when  he  was  loaded  with  fame  and  honors,  it  happened 
that,  being  sent  upon  an  embassy,  he  had  occasion  to  cross 
the  mountains  near  the  spot  where  Selvaggia  had  been 
buried.  Sending  his  suite  around  by  another  path,  he 
went  alone  to  her  tomb  and  tarried  for  a  time  in  prayer 
and  sorrow.  Later,  in  verse,  he  commemorates  this  visit, 
closing  with  the  words: 

".    .    .    pur  chiamando,  Selvaggia ! 
L'alpe  passai,  con  voce  di  dolore." 

[Then  calling  aloud  in  accents  of  despair,  Selvaggia!  I 
passed  the  mountain  tops.]  Cino's  loved  one  is  distin- 
guished in  the  history  of  Italian  literature  as  the  bel 
numer'  una — "fair  number  one" — in  that  list  of  the  fa- 
mous women  of  the  century  where  the  names  of  Beatrice 
and  Laura  are  to  be  found. 

With  Dante,  the  spiritual  nature  of  his  love  for  Beatrice 
assumed  an  almost  mystical  and  religious  character,  be- 
traying the  marked  influence  of  mediaeval  philosophy  and 


86  WOMAN 

theology;  and  here  it  was — for  the  first  time  in  modern 
literature — that  woman  as  a  symbol  of  goodness  and  light 
found  herself  raised  upon  a  pedestal  and  glorified  in  the 
eyes  of  the  world.  Many  a  pink  and  rosy  Venus  had  been 
evoked  before,  many  a  pale-faced  nun  had  received  the 
veneration  of  the  multitude  for  her  saintly  life,  but  here 
we  have  neither  Venus  nor  saint;  for  Beatrice  is  the  type 
of  the  good  woman  in  the  world,  human  in  her  instincts 
and  holy  in  her  acts.  The  air  of  mysticism  with  which 
Dante  has  enveloped  his  love  for  the  daughter  of  the 
Portinari  family  does  not  in  any  way  detract  from  our 
interest  in  his  point  of  view,  for  the  principal  fact  for  the 
modern  world  is  that  he  had  such  thoughts  about  women. 
Legouve  has  said  that  spiritual  love  was  always  mingled 
with  a  respect  for  women,  and  that  sensual  admiration 
was  rarely  without  secret  scorn  and  hatred;  and  it  is  his 
further  opinion  that  spiritual  love  was  naturally  allied  to 
sentiments  of  austere  patriotism  in  illustrious  men,  while 
those  who  celebrated  the  joys  of  sensual  passion  were 
indifferent  to  the  cause  of  country  and  sometimes  traitor 
to  it.  Dante  and  Petrarch,  the  two  chaste  poets,  as  they 
are  sometimes  called,  were  the  most  ardent  patriots  in  all 
Italy.  Midst  the  tortures  of  the  Inferno  or  the  joys  of  the 
Paradiso,  the  image  of  the  stricken  fatherland  is  ever  with 
Dante,  and  more  than  once  does  he  cry  out  against  her 
cruel  oppressors.  With  Petrarch,  as  it  has  well  been  said, 
his  love  for  the  Latin  language  was  but  the  form  of  his 
love  for  his  people,  as  in  his  great  hope  for  the  future  the 
glory  of  the  past  was  to  return.  Boccaccio  was  the  most 
illustrious  of  those  in  literature  who  represented  the  sen- 
sual conception  of  woman;  and  whatever  his  literary  vir- 
tues may  have  been,  no  one  has  ever  called  attention  to 
his  patriotic  fervor  or  to  his  dignity  of  character.  Laura 
and  Beatrice,  though  not  of  royal  birth,  have  been  made 


INFLUENCE  OF  WOMEN  IN  EARLY  LITERATURE       87 

immortal  by  their  poet  lovers;  Boccaccio  loved  the  daughter 
of  a  king,  but  he  has  described  her  with  such  scant  respect 
that  what  little  renown  she  may  have  derived  from  her 
liaison  with  him  is  all  to  her  discredit. 

The  story  of  Dante  and  Beatrice  is  now  an  old  one,  but 
ever  fresh  with  the  rare  charm  which  it  possesses  even 
after  the  lapse  of  these  many  years.  The  New  Life, 
Dante's  earliest  work,  which  is  devoted  to  a  description 
of  his  first  meeting  with  Beatrice  and  his  subsequent  all- 
powerful  love  for  her,  has  been  regarded  sceptically  by 
some  critics,  who  are  inclined  to  see  in  it  but  an  allegory, 
and  there  are  others  who  go  so  far  as  to  say  that  Beatrice 
never  existed.  What  uncertainty  can  there  be  regarding 
her  life,  when  Cino  da  Pistoja  wrote  his  most  celebrated 
poem,  a  canzone  to  Dante,  consoling  him  for  her  loss?  The 
following  stanza  from  Rossetti's  matchless  version  is  proof 
enough  for  all  who  care  to  read: 

"  Why  now  do  pangs  of  torment  clutch  thy  heart, 
Which  with  thy  love  should  make  thee  overjoyed, 
As  him  whose  intellect  has  passed  the  skies  ? 
Behold,  the  spirits  of  thy  life  depart 
Daily  to  Heaven  with  her,  they  so  are  buoyed 
With  thy  desire,  and  Love  so  bids  them  rise. 
O  God  !  and  thou,  a  man  whom  God  made  wise, 
To  nurse  a  charge  of  care,  and  love  the  same  ! 

I  tell  thee,  in  His  name, 
From  sin  of  sighing  grief  to  hold  thy  breath, 

Nor  let  thy  heart  to  death, 
Nor  harbour  death's  resemblance  in  thine  eyes. 
God  hath  her  with  Himself  eternally, 
Yet  she  inhabits  every  hour  with  thee." 

Beatrice  certainly  lived;  and  no  matter  in  what  veil  of 
mysticism  the  poet  may  choose  to  envelop  her  in  his  later 
writings,  and  in  spite  of  the  imagery  of  his  phrases,  even 
in  the  New  Life,  she  never  fails  to  appear  to  us  as  a  real 
woman.  We  know  that  Dante  first  saw  her  on  Mayday, 


88  WOMAN 

in  the  year  1274,  when  neither  had  reached  the  age  often, 
and  the  thrill  he  felt  at  this  first  vision  has  been  described  in 
his  own  words  on  the  first  page  of  this  chapter.  From  that 
time  forth  it  seems  that,  boy  as  he  was,  he  was  continu- 
ally haunted  by  this  apparition,  which  had  at  once  assumed 
such  domination  over  him.  Often  he  went  seeking  her, 
and  all  that  he  saw  of  her  was  so  noble  and  praiseworthy 
that  he  is  moved  to  apply  to  her  the  words  of  Homer: 
"  She  seems  not  the  daughter  of  mortal  man,  but  of  God." 
And  he  further  says:  "Though  her  image,  which  stayed 
constantly  with  me,  gave  assurance  to  Love  to  hold  lord- 
ship over  me,  yet  it  was  of  such  noble  virtue  that  it  never 
suffered  Love  to  rule  me  without  the  faithful  counsel  of 
the  reason  in  those  matters  in  which  it  was  useful  to  hear 
such  counsel."  So  began  his  pure  and  high  ideal  of  love, 
which  is  most  remarkable  in  that  it  stands  in  striking  con- 
trast, not  only  to  the  usual  amatory  declarations  of  the 
time  to  be  found  in  literature,  but  also  to  the  very  life  and 
temper  of  the  day  and  generation  in  which  he  was  so  soon 
to  play  a  conspicuous  part.  It  was  a  day  of  almost  un- 
bridled passions  and  lack  of  self-restraint,  and  none  before 
had  thought  to  couple  reason  with  the  thought  of  love. 
For  nine  years  his  boyish  dreams  were  filled  with  this 
maiden,  Beatrice,  and  not  once  in  all  that  time  did  he  have 
word  with  her.  Finally,  he  says:  "On  the  last  of  these 
days,  it  happened  that  this  most  admirable  lady  appeared 
before  me,  clad  in  shining  white,  between  two  ladies  older 
than  herself;  and  as  she  passed  along,  she  turned  her  eyes 
toward  that  spot  where  I  stood  in  all  timidity,  and  then, 
through  her  great  courtesy,  which  now  has  its  reward  in 
the  eternal  world,  she  saluted  me  with  such  virtue  that  I 
knew  all  the  depth  of  bliss."  But  never  did  Dante  come 
to  know  her  well,  though  she  was  ever  in  his  thoughts, 
and  though  he  must  have  watched  for  her  presence  in  the 


INFLUENCE  OF  WOMEN  IN  EARLY  LITERATURE       89 

street.  Once  she  went  upon  a  journey,  and  he  was  sore 
distraught  until  she  came  back  into  his  existence;  once  he 
was  taken  to  a  company  of  young  people,  where  he  was 
so  affected  by  sudden  and  unexpected  sight  of  her  that  he 
grew  pale  and  trembled,  and  showed  such  signs  of  mortal 
illness  that  his  friend  grew  much  alarmed  and  led  him 
quickly  away.  The  cause  of  his  confusion  was  not  appar- 
ent to  all  the  company;  but  the  ladies  mocked  him,  to  his 
great  dismay,  and  even  Beatrice  was  tempted  to  a  smile, 
not  understanding  all,  yet  feeling  some  annoyance  that 
she  should  be  the  occasion  for  such  strange  demeanor  on 
his  part.  Later,  when  her  father  dies,  Dante  grieves  for 
her,  waits  at  the  corner  to  pick  up  fragments  of  conversa- 
tion from  those  who  have  just  come  from  consoling  her, 
and,  in  truth,  makes  such  a  spectacle  of  himself,  that  these 
ladies  passing  say:  "Why  should  he  feel  such  grief,  when 
he  has  not  seen  her?"  He  constantly  feels  the  moral  force 
of  her  influence,  and  recounts  in  the  following  lines — from 
the  Norton  translation — her  noble  influence  on  others: 

"...    for  when  she  goes  her  way 
Love  casts  a  blight  upon  all  caitiff  hearts, 
So  that  their  every  thought  doth  freeze  and  perish. 
And  who  can  bear  to  stay  on  her  to  look, 
Will  noble  thing  become  or  else  will  die. 
And  when  one  finds  that  he  may  worthy  be 
To  look  on  her,  he  doth  his  virtue  prove." 

Before  we  are  through  with  Dante's  little  book,  we  seem 
to  feel  that  Beatrice  must  have  lived,  that  she  was  flesh 
and  blood  as  we  are,  and  that  she  really  graced  the  fair 
city  on  the  Arno  in  her  time,  as  the  poet  would  have  us 
believe.  She  is  pictured  in  company  with  other  ladies, 
upon  the  street,  in  social  gatherings  at  the  homes  of  her 
friends,  in  church  at  her  devotions,  in  tears  and  laughter, 
and  ever  is  she  pictured  with  such  love  and  tenderness 


90  WOMAN 

that  she  will  remain,  as  Professor  Norton  says,  "the  love- 
liest and  the  most  womanly  woman  of  the  Middle  Ages — at 
once  absolutely  real  and  truly  ideal." 

At  her  death,  Dante  is  disconsolate  for  a  time,  and  then 
devotes  himself  to  study  with  renewed  vigor;  and  he 
closes  his  story  of  her  with  the  promise  that  he  will  write 
of  her  what  has  never  yet  been  written  of  any  woman. 
This  anticipates,  perhaps,  the  Divine  Comedy,  which 
was  yet  to  be  written,  wherein  Beatrice  was  his  guide 
through  Paradise  and  where  he  accords  her  a  place  higher 
than  that  of  the  angels.  It  may  mar  the  somewhat  idyllic 
simplicity  of  this  story  to  add  that  Dante  was  married 
some  years  later  to  Gemma  Donati,  the  daughter  of  a 
distinguished  Florentine  family,  but  such  was  the  case. 
Little  is  known  of  her,  however,  as  Dante  never  speaks 
of  her;  and  while  there  is  no  reason  to  suppose  that  their 
union  was  not  a  happy  one,  it  is  safe  to  conclude  that 
it  gave  him  no  such  spiritual  uplift  as  he  had  felt  from  his 
youthful  passion. 

The  extent  of  Dante's  greatness  is  to  be  measured  not 
only  by  his  wide  learning — for  he  was  the  greatest  scholar 
of  his  time — but  also  by  his  noble  seriousness,  which  en- 
abled him  to  penetrate  through  that  which  was  light  and 
frivolous  to  that  which  was  of  deep  import  to  humanity. 
His  was  not  the  task  of  amusing  the  idle  populace  with 
what  he  wrote — he  had  a  high  duty,  which  was  to  make 
men  think  on  the  realities  of  life  and  of  their  own  short- 
comings. People  whispered,  as  he  passed  along:  "  See  his 
dark  face  and  melancholy  look!  Hell  has  he  seen  and 
Purgatory,  and  Paradise  as  well!  The  mysteries  of  life 
are  his,  but  he  has  paid  the  cost."  And  many  went  back 
to  their  pleasures,  but  some  were  impressed  with  his  ex- 
pression. Whence  came  his  seriousness,  whence  came 
his  penetrating  glance  and  sober  mien?  Why  did  he  move 


INFLUENCE  OF  WOMEN  IN  EARLY  LITERATURE       91 

almost  alone  in  all  that  heedless  throng,  intent  upon  the 
eternal  truth?  Because  from  early  youth  he  had  nourished 
in  his  heart  a  pure  love  which  had  chastened  him  and 
given  him  an  understanding  of  those  deeper  things  of  the 
spirit,  which  was  denied  to  most  men  of  his  time.  Doubt- 
less Dante  would  have  been  Dante,  with  or  without  the 
influence  of  Beatrice,  but  through  her  he  received  that 
broad  humanity  which  makes  him  the  symbol  of  the 
highest  thought  of  his  time. 

Whatever  the  story  of  Petrarch  and  his  Laura  may  lack 
in  dignity  when  compared  with  that  of  Dante  and  Beatrice, 
it  certainly  does  not  lack  in  grace  or  interest.  While 
Dante  early  took  an  interest  in  the  political  affairs  which 
distracted  Florence,  and  was  of  a  stern  and  somewhat  for- 
bidding character,  mingling  study  with  action,  Petrarch, 
humanist  and  scholar  as  he  was,  represents  also  the  more 
polite  accomplishments  of  his  time,  as  he  was  a  most 
polished  courtier  and  somewhat  vain  of  his  fair  person. 
Dante's  whole  exterior  was  characteristic  of  his  mind.  If 
accounts  be  true,  his  eyes  were  large  and  black,  his  nose 
was  aquiline,  his  complexion  dark,  and  in  all  his  move- 
ments he  was  slow  and  deliberate.  Petrarch,  on  the  con- 
trary, was  more  quick  and  animated;  he  had  bright  blue 
eyes,  a  fair  skin,  and  a  merry  laugh;  and  he  himself  it  is 
who  tells  us  how  cautiously  he  used  to  turn  the  corner  of 
a  street  lest  the  wind  should  disarrange  the  elaborate  curls 
of  his  beautiful  hair.  Though  record  is  made  of  this  side  of 
his  character,  it  must  not  be  assumed  that  his  mind  was 
a  frivolous  one,  for  he  may  be  considered — as  Professor 
Robinson  says — as  "the  cosmopolitan  representative  of 
the  first  great  forward  movement"  in  Western  civilization 
and  deserves  to  rank — as  Carducci  claims — with  Erasmus 
and  Voltaire,  each  in  his  time  the  intellectual  leader  of 
Europe. 


92  WOMAN 

With  regard  to  Laura,  Petrarch  has  left  the  following 
lines,  which  were  inscribed  upon  the  fly-leaf  of  a  favorite 
copy  of  Virgil,  wherein  it  was  his  habit  to  keep  a  record 
of  all  those  things  which  most  concerned  him:  "Laura, 
who  was  so  distinguished  by  her  own  virtues  and  so 
widely  celebrated  by  my  poetry,  first  appeared  before  my 
eyes  in  my  early  manhood,  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  1327, 
upon  the  sixth  day  of  April,  at  the  first  hour,  in  the  Church 
of  Santa  Clara  at  Avignon;  in  the  same  city,  in  the  same 
month  of  April,  on  the  same  sixth  day,  at  the  same  first 
hour,  in  the  year  1348,  that  light  was  taken  from  our  day, 
while  I,  by  chance,  happened  to  be  at  Verona,  ignorant, 
alas!  of  my  fate.  The  sad  news  came  to  me  at  Parma,  in 
a  letter  from  my  friend  Ludovico,  on  the  morning  of  the 
nineteenth  of  May  of  the  same  year.  Her  chaste  and 
beautiful  form  was  laid  in  the  Church  of  the  Franciscans, 
the  evening  of  the  day  she  died.  I  am  persuaded  that  her 
soul  returned,  as  Seneca  says  of  Scipio  Africanus,  to  the 
heaven  whence  it  came.  I  have  experienced  a  certain 
satisfaction  in  writing  this  bitter  record  of  a  cruel  event, 
especially  in  this  place,  where  I  may  see  it  often,  for  so 
may  I  be  led  to  reflect  that  life  can  afford  me  no  further 
joys;  and  the  most  serious  of  my  temptations  being  re- 
moved, I  may  be  counselled  by  the  frequent  perusal  of 
these  lines  and  by  the  thought  of  my  departing  years, 
that  now  the  time  has  come  to  flee  from  Babylon.  This, 
with  God's  help,  will  be  easy  when  I  frankly  and  manfully 
consider  the  needless  troubles  of  the  past  with  its  empty 
hopes  and  unexpected  issue." 

The  Babylon  to  which  Petrarch  refers  was  Avignon, 
then  the  home  of  the  popes,  which  he  declares  was  a 
place  filled  with  everything  fearful  that  had  ever  existed 
or  been  conceived  by  a  disordered  mind — a  veritable  hell 
on  earth.  But  here  he  had  stayed  this  quarter  of  a  century, 


INFLUENCE  OF  WOMEN  IN  EARLY  LITERATURE       93 

a  captive  to  the  charms  of  his  fair  Laura.  According  to  the 
generally  accepted  story,  she  was  of  high  birth,  as  her 
father — Audibert  de  Noves — was  a  noble  of  Avignon,  who 
died  in  her  infancy,  leaving  her  a  dowry  of  one  thousand 
gold  crowns,  which  would  amount  to  almost  ten  thousand 
pounds  sterling  to-day,  and  which  was  a  splendid  marriage 
portion  for  that  time.  In  1325,  two  years  before  her 
meeting  with  Petrarch,  she  was  married  to  Hugh  de  Sade, 
when  she  was  but  eighteen;  and  while  her  husband  was  a 
man  of  rank  and  of  an  age  suited  to  her  own,  it  does  not 
appear  that  he  was  favored  in  mind  or  in  body,  or  that 
there  was  any  special  affinity  between  them.  In  the 
marriage  contract  it  was  stipulated  that  her  mother  and 
brother  were  to  pay  the  dower  left  by  the  father  and  also 
to  bestow  upon  the  bride  two  gowns  for  state  ceremonies, 
one  of  them  to  be  green,  embroidered  with  violets,  and  the 
other  of  crimson,  with  a  trimming  of  feathers.  Petrarch 
frequently  alludes  to  these  gowns,  and  in  the  portraits  of 
Laura  which  have  been  preserved  she  is  attired  in  either 
one  or  the  other  of  them.  Her  personal  beauty  has  been 
described  in  greatest  detail  by  the  poet,  and  it  is  doubtful 
if  the  features  of  any  other  woman  and  her  general  char- 
acteristics of  mind  and  body  were  ever  subjected  to  such 
minute  analysis  as  is  exemplified  in  the  present  instance. 
Hands  and  feet,  hair,  eyes,  ears,  nose,  and  throat — all  are 
depicted  in  most  glowing  and  appreciative  fashion;  and, 
from  the  superlative  degree  of  the  adjectives,  she  must 
indeed  have  been  fair  to  look  upon  and  possessed  of  a 
great  compelling  charm.  But  from  her  lovely  mouth — 
la  bella  bocca  angelica,  as  he  calls  it — there  never  came  a 
weak  or  yielding  word  in  answer  to  his  passionate  en- 
treaties. For  this  was  no  mystical  love,  no  such  spiritual 
affection  as  was  felt  by  Dante,  but  the  love  of  an  active 
man  of  the  world  whose  feelings  had  been  deeply  troubled. 


94  WOMAN 

In  spite  of  his  pleadings,  she  remained  unshaken;  and 
although  she  felt  honored  by  the  affection  of  this  man, 
and  was  entirely  susceptible  to  the  compliment  of  his 
poetry,  and  in  spite  of  the  current  notions  of  duty  and 
fidelity,  which  were  far  from  exacting,  she  had  a  better 
self  which  triumphed.  The  profligate  Madame  du  Deffand, 
who  occupies  so  conspicuous  a  place  in  the  annals  of  the 
French  court  in  the  days  of  its  greatest  corruption,  has 
little  sympathy  with  a  situation  of  this  kind,  and  is  led  to 
exclaim:  Le  fade  personnage  que  votre  Petrarque!  que  sa 
Laure  etait  sotte  et  predeuse!  But  Petrarch  himself  thought 
otherwise,  for  he  has  written  thereupon:  "A  woman  taught 
me  the  duty  of  a  man!  To  persuade  me  to  keep  the  path 
of  virtue,  her  conduct  was  at  once  an  example  and  a  re- 
proach." 

Without  following  it  in  all  its  various  incidents,  it  will 
suffice  to  say  that  this  love  of  Petrarch  for  Laura,  which 
lasted  for  so  many  years,  exerted  a  powerful  influence 
upon  the  poet  and  had  much  to  do  in  shaping  the  character 
which  was  to  win  for  him  in  later  times  the  praise  which 
Pierre  de  Nolhac  has  bestowed  upon  him  in  calling  him  the 
first  modern  man.  Petrarch  considered  unworthy,  it  is 
true,  the  poems  and  sonnets  which  he  consecrated  to  the 
charms  of  Laura,  and  he  even  regretted  that  his  fame 
should  rest  upon  them,  when,  in  his  own  estimation,  his 
ponderous  works  in  Latin  were  of  much  more  consequence. 
But,  incidental  to  his  passion  for  Laura,  he  was  led  to 
discuss  within  himself  the  two  conceptions  of  love  which 
were  current  at  that  time, — the  mediaeval  and  monkish 
conception,  based  upon  a  sensual  idea  which  regarded 
women  as  the  root  of  all  evil  and  the  source  of  all  sin,  and 
the  modern  or  secular  idea,  which  is  spiritual  and  may 
become  holy.  In  an  imaginary  conversation  with  Saint 
Augustine  which  Petrarch  wrote  to  furnish  a  vehicle  for 


INFLUENCE  OF  WOMEN  IN  EARLY  LITERATURE       95 

the  discussion  of  these  matters,  the  poet  exclaims  that  it 
is  the  soul — the  inborn  and  celestial  goodness — that  he 
loves,  and  that  he  owes  all  to  her  who  has  preserved  him 
from  sin  and  urged  him  on  to  a  full  development  of  his 
powers.  The  ultimate  result  of  all  this  thought  and  all 
this  reflection  upon  the  nature  of  the  affections  developed 
the  humanity  of  the  man,  excited  broad  interests  within 
his  breast,  gave  him  a  wide  sympathy,  and  entitled  him  to 
rank  as  the  first  great  humanist. 

Dante,  with  his  vague  and  almost  mystical  adoration  of 
Beatrice,  which  was  at  times  a  passion  almost  subjective, 
is  still  in  the  shadow  of  the  Middle  Ages,  their  gloom  is 
still  upon  him,  and  he  can  see  but  dimly  into  the  centuries 
which  are  still  to  come;  but  his  face  is  glorified  by  his 
vision  of  the  spiritual  possibilities  of  good  and  noble 
womanhood.  Petrarch,  in  the  brief  interval  which  has 
passed,  has  come  out  into  the  light  of  a  modern  world;  and 
there,  in  the  midst  of  baffled  desire,  he  is  brought  face 
to  face  with  the  great  thought  that  though  love  be  human 
it  has  power  divine. 


SJBomen  in  tfje  IBarlg  Renaissance 


VI 

WOMEN   IN  THE   EARLY  RENAISSANCE 

ALTHOUGH  the  fourteenth  century  in  Italy  was  one  of 
almost  continuous  warfare  between  the  different  contend- 
ing states  of  the  peninsula,  the  fact  remains  that  the  whole 
country  was  enjoying  a  degree  of  prosperity  which  was  un- 
precedented in  the  history  of  the  Italian  people.  It  was  the 
beginning  of  the  age  of  the  despots,  it  is  true,  but  in  the  midst 
of  strife  and  contention  there  was  at  the  same  time  a  material 
progress  which  did  much  to  enrich  the  country  and  enable 
its  inhabitants  to  elevate  their  standard  of  living.  The 
Italian  cities  were  encouraging  business  transactions  on  a 
large  scale;  Italian  merchants  were  among  the  most  enter- 
prising on  the  continent,  making  long  trips  to  foreign 
countries  for  the  purpose  of  buying  and  selling  goods;  and 
the  Oriental  trade,  which  had  been  diverted  in  great  meas- 
ure to  Italian  channels,  was  a  constant  source  of  profit. 
That  all  this  could  be  so  in  the  face  of  the  warlike  condi- 
tion of  society  is  due  to  the  fact  that  much  of  the  fighting 
was  done  by  mercenary  soldiers,  or  that  the  political  quar- 
rels of  the  time,  which  frequently  concerned  the  fate  of 
cities,  too  often  had  their  rise  in  family  feuds  which,  no 
matter  how  fiercely  they  were  waged,  did  not  interest  the 
masses.  There  were  always  thousands  upon  thousands 
of  worthy  citizens  who  felt  no  direct  personal  interest  in 
the  outcome  of  the  fighting,  and  who  pursued  the  even 

99 


100  WOMAN 

tenor  of  their  way  without  much  regard  for  what  was 
taking  place,  so  far  as  allowing  it  to  interfere  with  their 
daily  occupations  was  concerned. 

The  general  impression  of  the  moral  tone  of  this  epoch 
in  society  is  far  from  favorable.  Divorce  had  become 
practically  impossible  for  ordinary  individuals;  marriage 
was  common  enough,  but  appeared  to  possess  no  special 
sanctity;  and  as  a  result  there  were  many  illegitimate 
children,  who  seem,  however,  to  have  been  recognized  by 
their  fathers  and  cared  for  with  as  great  solicitude  as  were 
those  who  were  born  within  the  pale  of  the  law.  The 
ideas  which  were  current  regarding  matters  of  decency 
and  refinement  will  be  found  quite  different  from  those 
prevalent  in  our  own  day.  Coarseness  in  speech  and 
manner  was  common,  no  high  moral  standards  were  main- 
tained, even  by  the  Church,  and  diplomacy  and  calculation 
took  the  place  of  sincerity  and  conscience.  Still,  while 
these  may  have  been  the  characteristics  of  a  considerable 
number  of  the  population,  the  fact  must  not  be  forgotten 
that  even  in  that  day  of  moral  laxity  there  were  many 
good  and  simple  people  who  lived  their  homely  lives  in 
peace  and  quiet  and  contentment,  unmoved  by  the  rush  of 
the  world.  We  get  a  glimpse  of  what  this  simple  life  may 
have  been  from  a  charming  little  book  by  Pandolfmo  called 
La  Famiglia,  wherein  the  joys  of  family  life  are  depicted 
in  a  most  idyllic  manner.  The  story  deals  with  the  begin- 
ning of  the  married  life  of  a  young  couple;  and  we  are 
shown  how  the  husband  takes  the  wife  to  his  house  after 
the  wedding  has  been  celebrated,  displays  to  her  his 
worldly  possessions,  and  then  turns  them  over  to  her 
keeping.  After  visiting  the  establishment  and  giving  it  a 
careful  inspection,  they  kneel  before  the  little  shrine  of 
the  Madonna,  which  is  near  at  hand,  and  there  they  pray 
devoutly  that  they  may  be  given  grace  to  profit  by  all 


WOMEN  IN  THE  EARLY  RENAISSANCE  IOI 

their  blessings,  and  that  they  may  live  long  years  together 
in  peace  and  harmony,  and  the  prayer  ends  with  the  wish 
that  they  may  have  many  male  children.  The  young  wife 
is  later  advised  not  to  paint  her  face,  and  to  pay  no  atten- 
tion to  other  men.  There  is  no  injunction  to  secrecy  with 
regard  to  family  affairs  of  importance,  inasmuch  as  Pan- 
dolfino  says  very  frankly  that  he  doubts  the  ability  of  a 
woman  to  keep  a  secret,  and  that,  while  he  is  perfectly 
willing  to  grant  that  his  wife  is  loving  and  discreet,  he 
feels  a  much  greater  sense  of  security  when  he  knows  she 
is  unable  to  do  him  any  harm.  His  quaint  phrase  is  as 
follows:  Non  perche  io  non  conoscessi  la  mia  amarevole  e 
discreta,  ma  sempre  estimai  piu  securo  ch'ella  non  mipotesse 
nuocere  che  ella  non  volesse. 

The  material  conditions  for  happiness — and  they  are 
certainly  no  unimportant  factor — were  wonderfully  ad- 
vanced, and  the  common  people  of  Italy  at  this  time  were 
enjoying  many  comforts  of  life  which  were  unknown  to 
the  higher  classes  in  other  countries.  The  houses  were 
generally  large  and  of  stone,  supplies  were  plentiful  and 
cheap,  and,  all  in  all,  it  appears  to  have  been  an  age  of 
abundance.  It  was  customary  for  the  housewives  to  lay 
in  a  supply  of  oil  and  wine  for  the  year;  they  were  most 
careful  in  regard  to  all  matters  of  domestic  economy  and 
took  a  pride  in  their  work.  Indeed,  Burckhardt  has  said 
that  from  this  epoch  dates  the  first  conscious  attempt  to 
regulate  the  affairs  of  a  household  in  a  systematic  way, 
and  to  this  end  it  is  interesting  to  note  that  bridal  outfits 
were  prepared  with  unusual  care,  special  attention  being 
given  to  the  supply  of  household  linen,  which  was  some- 
times elaborate.  As  a  further  aid  to  orderly  housekeeping, 
it  was  often  the  custom  for  the  wives  to  keep  a  careful 
account  of  daily  expenditures,  which  they  did  with  a  skill 
that  would  doubtless  cause  the  despair  of  many  a  modern 


102  WOMAN 

housewife  who  has  attempted  the  same  thing.  It  must 
not  be  supposed,  however,  that  the  course  of  this  domestic 
life  was  without  annoyance,  as  even  here  at  this  early 
day  servants  were  inclined  to  be  exacting  and  hard  to 
please.  At  least,  that  is  the  inference  which  may  be 
drawn  from  a  letter  by  an  old  notary  of  Florence,  Lapo 
Mazzei,  wherein  he  takes  occasion  to  say,  in  inviting  a 
friend  to  supper,  that  it  will  be  entirely  convenient  to 
have  him  come,  inasmuch  as  he  has  taken  the  precaution, 
in  order  not  to  trouble  the  house  servants,  to  send  to  the 
bakery  to  be  roasted  a  fat  pullet  and  a  loin  of  mutton! 

Some  of  the  customs  of  this  time  will  seem  to  us  quite 
primitive.  It  was  an  unheard-of  thing,  for  example,  to 
see  carriages  going  about  the  streets,  as  they  had  not  yet 
come  into  general  use,  and  riding  on  horseback  was  the 
ordinary  means  of  locomotion,  even  for  ladies.  Indeed, 
mention  has  been  found  in  one  of  the  early  historians  of 
an  adventure  which  befell  Louisa  Strozzi,  a  daughter  of  the 
great  Florentine  house  of  Strozzi,  as  she  was  returning  to 
her  home,  from  a  ball  in  the  early  morning  hours,  on 
horseback.  It  seems  to  have  been  the  custom  then,  as 
now,  to  give  balls  which  lasted  far  into  the  night,  and  the 
growing  wealth  of  the  citizens  caused  an  increasing  love  of 
display.  In  some  communities  laws  were  enacted  in  the 
interests  of  simplicity,  and  it  was  provided  that  not  more 
than  three  dishes  should  be  supplied  for  an  ordinary  enter- 
tainment, while  twenty  was  the  largest  number  which 
might  be  served  at  a  wedding  feast.  With  regard  to 
matters  of  dress,  Scipio  Ammirato  tells  us  in  his  sixteenth- 
century  History  of  Florence  that  in  the  earliest  times  the 
women  had  the  simplest  tastes  and  were  "much  more 
soft  and  delicate  than  the  men,"  and  he  adds  that  "the 
greatest  ornament  of  the  most  noble  and  wealthy  woman 
of  Florence  was  no  other  than  a  tight-fitting  skirt  of  bright 


WOMEN  IN  THE  EARLY  RENAISSANCE  103 

scarlet,  without  other  girdle  than  a  belt  of  antique  style, 
and  a  mantle  lined  with  black  and  white."  Such  sim- 
plicity, however,  cannot  have  been  long  in  vogue,  for  as 
early  as  1323  the  chronicler  Villani  informs  us  that  the 
city  authorities  began  to  enact  stringent  sumptuary  laws 
which  were  directed  against  the  women.  Three  years 
after  this,  we  learn  from  the  same  source  that  the  Duke 
of  Milan  had  made  complaint  because  the  women  of  Flor- 
ence had  induced  his  wife  to  wear,  "  in  front  of  her  face," 
a  most  unsightly  knot  of  yellow  and  white  silk,  in  place  of 
her  own  curls,  a  style  of  headdress  already  condemned  by 
the  city  fathers  of  Florence.  After  this  incident,  the  his- 
torian adds,  by  way  of  sententious  remark:  "Thus  did 
the  excessive  appetite  of  the  women  defeat  the  reason 
and  sense  of  the  men."  These  laws  of  the  year  1323 
failed  to  prove  effective,  and  finally,  in  1330,  more  explicit 
measures  were  taken  to  check  this  growing  evil.  Villani 
had  now  best  tell  the  story  in  his  own  words: 

"The  women  of  Florence  were  greatly  at  fault  in  the 
matter  of  superfluous  ornaments,  of  crowns  and  wreaths 
of  gold  and  silver  and  pearls  and  of  other  precious  stones, 
and  certain  garlands  of  pearls,  and  other  ornaments  for 
the  head,  and  of  great  price.  Likewise  they  had  dresses 
cut  of  several  kinds  of  cloth  and  silk,  with  silken  puffs  of 
divers  kinds,  and  with  fringes  of  pearls,  and  little  gold  and 
silver  buttons,  often  of  four  and  six  rows  together.  It  was 
also  their  custom  to  wear  various  strings  of  pearls  and  of 
precious  stones  at  the  breast,  with  different  designs  and 
letters.  Likewise  did  they  give  costly  entertainments  and 
wedding  parties,  extravagant  and  with  superfluous  and  ex- 
cessive table."  In  the  midst  of  this  deplorable  state  of 
affairs,  an  ordinance  was  passed  forbidding  women  to  wear 
crowns  of  any  kind,  even  of  painted  paper;  dresses  of 
more  than  one  piece  and  dresses  with  either  painted  or 


104  WOMAN 

embroidered  figures  were  forbidden,  though  woven  figures 
were  permitted.  Also,  bias  patterns  and  stripes  were 
put  under  the  ban,  excepting  only  those  of  not  more  than 
two  colors.  It  was  decided,  furthermore,  that  more 
than  two  rings  on  a  finger  should  not  be  tolerated.  Other 
cities  of  Italy,  having  the  same  trouble  to  contend  with, 
sent  deputations  to  Florence  asking  for  a  copy  of  these 
regulations;  this  attempt  on  the  part  of  the  cities  to  con- 
trol the  habits  of  their  citizens  in  these  matters  seems  to 
have  been  quite  general. 

In  matters  of  education  more  attention  was  paid  to  the 
boys  than  to  the  girls  at  this  time,  as  the  women  were 
generally  expected  to  let  the  men  attend  to  the  chief  affairs 
of  life,  while  they  busied  themselves  with  domestic  duties. 
Still,  it  is  on  record  that  in  the  year  1338  there  were  from 
eight  to  ten  thousand  boys  and  girls  in  school  in  the  city 
of  Florence,  learning  to  read.  Among  the  people  of  the 
wealthy  class  and  of  the  nobility,  women  were  undoubt- 
edly given  greater  educational  advantages  in  many  in- 
stances; and  then  again,  in  strictly  academic  circles,  the 
daughters  of  a  professor  sometimes  distinguished  them- 
selves for  great  learning  and  scholarship.  It  was  at  the 
University  of  Bologna  in  particular  that  women  seem  to 
have  been  most  conspicuous  in  educational  affairs,  and 
here  it  was  that  a  number  of  them  were  actually  allowed 
to  wear  the  robe  of  a  professor  and  lecture  to  the  students. 
Among  the  number  famed  for  their  learning  may  be  men- 
tioned Giovanna  Bianchetti  and  Maddalena  Buonsignori, 
who  gave  instruction  in  law.  The  latter  was  the  author 
of  a  small  Latin  treatise  of  some  reputation,  entitled  De 
kgibus  connubialis,  and  the  character  of  this  legal  work 
reveals  the  fact  that  she  must  have  been  much  interested 
in  the  women  of  her  time,  for  she  has  made  here  in  some 
detail  a  study  of  their  legal  status  from  certain  points  of 


WOMEN  IN  THE  EARLY  RENAISSANCE  10$ 

view.  No  list  of  this  kind  would  be  complete  without 
mention  of  Novella  d'Andrea,  who  was  perhaps  the  best 
known  of  all  these  learned  women,  for  to  her  erudition 
was  added  a  most  marvellous  beauty  which  alone  would 
have  been  sufficient,  perhaps,  to  hand  her  name  down  to 
posterity.  Her  father  was  a  professor  of  canonical  law 
at  the  University  of  Bologna,  and  there  it  was  that  she 
became  his  assistant,  and  on  several  occasions  delivered 
lectures  in  his  stead.  At  such  times  it  was  her  custom,  if 
the  tradition  be  true,  to  speak  from  behind  a  high  screen, 
as  she  had  found  out  from  experience  that  the  students 
were  so  bewildered  by  her  grace  and  charm,  when  she 
stood  openly  before  them,  that  they  were  in  no  mood  for 
serious  study,  but  gazed  at  her  the  while  in  undisguised 
admiration. 

However  pleasurable  it  may  prove  to  reflect  upon  this 
peaceful  scene,  the  fact  must  not  be  forgotten  that  more 
women  were  aiding  men,  directly  or  indirectly,  to  break 
laws  than  to  make  them,  for  many  of  the  most  bitter  feuds 
and  controversies  of  the  time  were  waged  about  a  woman. 
Bianchina,  the  wife  of  Vergusio  Landi,  seduced  by  the 
great  Galeazzo  Visconti,  who  had  been  her  husband's 
friend  and  ally,  became  the  cause  of  a  most  ferocious  war 
which  was  waged  between  the  cities  of  Milan  and  Piacenza; 
Virginia  Galucci,  abducted  by  Alberto  Carbonesi,  brought 
about  a  long-standing  hostility  between  these  two  families 
and  caused  much  blood  to  be  spilled;  many  other  instances 
might  be  cited  which  would  reveal  the  same  state  of 
affairs.  A  few  of  the  most  remarkable  of  these  feuds  have 
been  deemed  worthy  of  more  extended  notice,  and  the  first 
among  the  number  concerns  the  quarrel  between  the  Buon- 
delmonti  and  the  Amedei,  in  Florence,  in  the  thirteenth  cen- 
tury. Buondelmonte  de'  Buondelmonti,  a  young  nobleman 
from  the  upper  Val  d'Arno  and  a  member  of  the  Guelph 


106  WOMAN 

party,  was  to  marry  a  daughter  of  the  house  of  Amedei, 
staunch  Ghibelline  supporters,  and  the  wedding  day  was 
fast  approaching;  one  day  the  young  Guelph  was  met 
upon  the  street  by  a  lady  of  the  Donati  family,  also  a 
Guelph,  who  reproached  him  for  his  intended  union  with 
one  of  the  hated  party,  and  urged  him  to  marry  her  own 
daughter,  Ciulla,  who  was  far  more  desfrable.  The  sight 
of  the  fair  Donati  was  too  much  for  the  quick  passions  of 
Buondelmonte;  he  fell  in  love  with  her  at  once,  and 
straightway  repudiated  his  former  plan  of  marriage.  It 
may  well  be  imagined  that  the  Amedei  were  enraged  at 
this;  the  powerful  Uberti  and  all  the  other  Ghibelline 
families  in  Florence,  about  twenty-four  in  all,  joined  with 
them,  and  they  swore  to  kill  the  fickle  young  lover  on 
sight.  On  Easter  morning,  they  lay  in  wait  for  the  hand- 
some but  heedless  young  Buondelmonte  at  the  north  end 
of  the  Ponte  Vecchio;  and  when  he  appeared,  boldly  riding 
without  an  escort,  all  clothed  in  white  and  upon  a  milk- 
white  steed,  they  fell  upon  him  and  struck  him  to  the 
ground,  and  left  him  dying  there,  his  Easter  tunic  dripping 
with  his  blood.  Their  savage  yell  of  triumph  over  this 
assassination  was  not  the  end,  but  the  beginning,  for  forty- 
two  Guelph  families  immediately  took  up  the  quarrel  and 
swore  to  avenge  the  death  of  their  comrade,  and  for  more 
than  thirty  years  the  strife  continued. 

The  story  of  Imelda  de'  Lambertazzi  is  even  more  tragic 
in  its  results,  as  here  the  woman  has  to  suffer  as  well  as 
the  man,  and  in  its  general  outlines  this  incident  recalls 
many  of  the  features  of  Romeo  and  Juliet,  though  there  is 
no  evidence  that  Shakespeare  used  it  in  any  way,  but 
rather  confined  his  attention  to  the  traditional  story  of 
the  lovers  of  Verona.  The  Lambertazzi  were  a  noble 
family  of  Bologna,  and  the  daughter  of  the  house  had  long 
been  wooed  most  ardently  by  Bonifacio  de'  Geremei,  whose 


WOMEN  IN  THE  EARLY  RENAISSANCE  107 

family  was  in  deadly  feud  with  her  own.  Yielding  finally 
to  his  entreaties,  she  allowed  him  to  come  to  see  her  in 
her  own  apartments;  but  there  they  were  surprised  by  her 
two  brothers,  who  considered  his  presence  as  an  affront 
•offered  not  only  to  their  sister,  but  to  their  house.  Imelda 
barely  had  time  to  escape  before  the  two  men  rushed  upon 
Bonifacio,  who  was  powerless  to  defend  himself.  With 
poisoned  daggers,  whose  secret  had  been  learned  from  the 
Saracens  by  the  Crusaders,  he  was  speedily  stabbed  to 
the  heart,  and  then  dragged  into  a  dark  corner  beneath  a 
winding  staircase.  After  seeing  her  brothers  leave  the 
palace,  Imelda  returned  to  discover  her  lover's  fate,  while 
they  rushed  off  to  raise  a  hue  and  cry  and  plan  for  further 
deeds  of  violence.  Imelda  found  the  room  where  she  had 
left  the  struggling  men  empty,  but,  following  the  drops  of 
blood  upon  the  floor,  she  soon  came  to  the  lifeless  body 
hidden  away.  Drawing  it  out  to  the  light,  she  found  that 
it  was  still  warm,  and,  knowing  the  secret  of  her  brothers' 
weapons,  she  resolved  upon  a  desperate  remedy,  and 
endeavored  to  suck  the  poison  from  the  wounds.  The  re- 
.sult  of  this  most  heroic  attempt  was  fearful:  the  poison 
was  communicated  to  her  own  veins,  and  she  was  soon 
stretched  lifeless  beside  the  luckless  lover.  There  they 
were  found  by  anxious  servants,  who,  knowing  of  the 
quarrel,  had  not  dared  to  stir  about  at  first.  Hallam  says, 
after  his  account  of  this  event:  "So  cruel  an  outrage 
wrought  the  Geremei  to  madness;  they  formed  alliances 
with  some  of  the  neighboring  republics;  the  Lambertazzi 
took  the  same  measures;  and  after  a  fight  in  the  streets  of 
Bologna  of  forty  days'  duration,  the  latter  were  driven  out 
of  the  city,  with  all  the  Ghibellines,  their  political  asso- 
ciates. Twelve  thousand  citizens  were  condemned  to 
banishment,  their  houses  razed,  and  their  estates  con- 
fiscated." 


108  WOMAN 

Another  story  of  bloody  violence  centres  in  the  territory 
from  Padova  and  Treviso,  on  the  one  hand,  to  Vicenza  and 
Verona,  on  the  other;  and  while  the  incidents  took  place 
in  mediaeval  times,  dating  from  the  latter  part  of  the 
twelfth  century,  the  consequences  were  so  widespread 
and  so  lasting  that  they  were  by  no  means  dead  in  the 
days  of  the  early  Renaissance.  Tisolino  di  Camposam- 
piero,  a  nobleman  of  Padova,  confided  to  his  friend  Ezze- 
lino,  the  feudal  lord  of  Onar  and  Romano,  that  it  was  his 
intention  to  marry  his  son  to  the  rich  heiress  of  Abano, 
Cecilia  Ricco  by  name.  Ezzelino  received  this  confidence, 
and  promised  to  keep  the  secret;  but  no  sooner  had  he 
parted  from  the  Padovan  nobleman  than  he  made  plans  of 
his  own,  and  succeeded  in  marrying  his  own  son  to  the 
desirable  heiress  before  Tisolino  could  interpose.  What 
more  was  needed  to  start  a  feud  of  the  first  magnitude? 
Tisolino's  disappointed  son,  whose  heart  was  now  filled 
with  vengeance  rather  than  with  unrequited  love,  abducted 
his  former  fiancee  by  means  of  a  clever  ruse,  and  carried 
her  off  to  his  father's  stronghold.  The  next  day  she  was 
sent  back,  dishonored,  to  her  husband,  who  refused  to  re- 
ceive her  under  these  circumstances;  but  at  the  same  time 
he  felt  no  compunctions  about  retaining  her  extensive 
dowry,  which  comprised  many  strong  castles  and  other 
feudal  holdings.  Then  the  long  struggle  began  which  was 
to  take  many  lives  and  last  for  many  years.  Succeeding 
generations  inherited  the  hatred  as  one  of  their  most  cher- 
ished possessions,  and  it  was  almost  a  century  before  the 
quarrel  spent  itself. 

One  of  the  most  beautiful  and  pathetic  stories  of  this 
whole  period,  however,  is  the  one  which  concerns  the  fate 
of  Madonna  Francesca,  daughter  of  Guido  the  Elder,  Lord  of 
Ravenna  and  of  Cervia.  For  many  years,  according  to 
Boccaccio's  account,  Guido  had  waged  a  grievous  war 


WOMEN  IN  THE  EARLY  RENAISSANCE  109 

with  the  Lord  Malatesta  of  Rimini,  and  finally,  when  peace 
was  brought  about  between  them  through  the  mediation  of 
friends,  it  was  thought  advisable  to  cement  the  friendship 
with  as  close  a  tie  as  possible.  To  that  end,  Guido  agreed 
to  give  his  fair  young  daughter,  Francesca,  in  marriage  to 
Gianciotto,  Malatesta's  son,  without  a  thought  to  her  own 
desires  in  the  matter.  When  the  plan  was  noised  abroad, 
certain  friends  of  Guido,  knowing  Gianciotto  to  be  lame 
and  rather  rough  in  his  manners,  and  considering  it  very 
doubtful  whether  Francesca  would  consent  to  marry  him 
when  once  she  had  seen  him,  came  to  the  father  and  urged 
him  to  act  with  discretion,  so  that  no  scandal  might  arise 
over  the  matter.  It  happened  that  there  was  a  younger 
son  of  the  house  of  Malatesta,  Paolo  by  name,  who  was 
young  and  handsome  and  possessed  of  most  courtly  and 
winning  manners,  and  it  was  advised  that  he  be  sent  to 
marry  Francesca  by  proxy  in  his  brother's  stead,  and  that 
she  should  be  kept  in  ignorance  regarding  the  real  state  of 
affairs  until  it  was  too  late  to  withdraw  her  word.  So 
Paolo  came  to  Ravenna  with  a  brilliant  train  of  gentlemen 
to  celebrate  the  wedding  festivities;  and  as  he  crossed  the 
courtyard  of  the  palace  on  the  morning  of  his  arrival,  a 
maid  who  knew  him  pointed  him  out  to  Francesca  through 
the  open  window,  saying:  "  That  is  he  who  is  to  be  your 
husband."  This  Francesca  believed,  as  she  had  no  reason 
to  think  otherwise,  so  skilfully  was  the  marriage  ceremony 
arranged,  and  it  was  not  until  her  arrival  at  Rimini  that 
she  knew  her  fate.  For  there,  on  the  morning  following 
her  coming,  as  she  saw  Gianciotto  rise  from  her  side, 
when  she  had  thought  him  to  be  Paolo,  the  sad  truth  burst 
upon  her.  What  excuses  Paolo  could  give  for  this  strange 
deception  we  are  not  told,  but  the  fact  remains  that  Fran- 
cesca still  loved  him,  and  looked  with  scorn  upon  his  mis- 
shapen brother.  From  that  time  the  dangerous  moment 


110  WOMAN 

slowly  approached.  Living  together  in  the  same  palace, 
it  was  but  natural  that  Paolo  and  Franceses  should  be 
much  in  each  other's  society;  while  Gianciotto,  unloved 
and  unlovely,  busied  himself  with  his  own  affairs,  which 
sometimes  took  him  to  other  cities,  as  he  was  a  man  of 
ambition  and  essayed  by  political  manoeuvres  to  advance 
his  own  interests.  It  happened  once  that  in  returning 
from  one  of  these  journeys  he  saw  Paolo  enter  Fran- 
cesca's  room,  and  then  for  the  first  time  he  became  jeal- 
ous. Hitherto  he  had  known  of  their  affection  for  each 
other,  but  it  had  never  dawned  upon  him  that  his  own 
brother  could  thus  betray  his  trust,  while  under  his  roof 
and  receiving  his  protection.  Now  he  rushed  up  the  broad 
stairway  and  made  straight  for  Francesca's  door,  anxious 
to  know  the  worst.  The  door  was  found  locked  before 
him,  and  his  hurried  knocks  brought  sudden  terror  to  the 
lovers  within.  There  was  an  open  window,  however, 
through  which  Paolo  counted  upon  disappearing,  and  so 
he  bade  the  lady  make  haste  to  open  to  her  lord,  that  he 
might  not  be  curious.  As  Francesca  opened  the  door, 
Paolo  found  to  his  dismay  that  the  edge  of  his  cloak  had 
caught  upon  a  nail;  so  that  when  Gianciotto,  red  with 
anger,  burst  into  the  room,  the  fatal  secret  was  disclosed. 
Grasping  his  dagger,  without  a  moment's  hesitation,  he 
stepped  quickly  to  the  window  and  would  have  slain  his 
brother  with  a  single  mighty  blow,  but  Francesca,  throw- 
ing herself  before  him,  sheathed  the  dagger  in  her  heart 
and  fell  dead  at  his  feet.  Gianciotto,  still  burning  for  re- 
venge, and  unmoved  by  his  first  bloody  deed,  again  struck 
at  Paolo,  and  this  time  he  slew  him.  Then,  following  the 
words  of  the  old  story,  "leaving  them  both  dead,  he 
hastily  went  his  way  and  betook  him  to  his  wonted  affairs; 
and  the  next  morning  the  two  lovers,  with  many  tears, 
were  buried  together  in  one  grave." 


WOMEN  IN  THE  EARLY  RENAISSANCE  III 

There  is  a  terrible  pathos  about  this  story  which  has 
made  it  live  during  all  these  years.  Through  every  line 
of  it  runs  a  commentary  upon  the  barbarous  customs  of 
the  time,  which  made  such  a  situation  possible,  and  its 
climax  was  so  inevitable  and  so  necessary,  according  to 
all  the  laws  of  nature,  that  we  of  a  later  day  are  inclined 
to  shed  a  sympathetic  tear  and  heave  a  sigh  of  regret. 

Dante  has  placed  the  two  lovers  in  his  Inferno  for  their 
sin,  but  in  the  fifth  canto,  where  he  first  sees  them,  he  is 
moved  to  such  pity  for  their  unhappy  lot  that  he  exclaims: 

".    .    .    Francesca,  i  tuoi  martin 
A  lagrimar  mi  fanno  tristo  e  pio ! " 

[Thine  agonies,  Francesca,  sad  and  compassionate  to  weep- 
ing make  me!]  And  before  she  finished  telling  her  tragic 
story,  he  swooned  away  as  if  he  had  been  dying,  "and 
fell,  even  as  a  dead  body  falls." 

In  a  more  recent  time  this  story  has  been  told  by  Silvio 
Pellico,  who  wrote  a  tragedy  on  the  subject,  and  by  Leigh 
Hunt  in  a  poem.  In  England,  Boker  wrote  a  successful 
tragedy  upon  it  many  years  ago,  and  more  recently  Stephen 
Phillips,  in  his  Paolo  and  Francesca,  has  produced  a  dra- 
matic poem  of  rare  merit.  Most  recently  of  all,  Gabriele 
d'Annunzio,  the  well-known  Italian  poet  and  novelist,  has 
made  this  story  the  subject  of  a  powerful  drama,  which  was 
interpreted  in  a  most  wonderful  way  by  the  great  Italian 
actress,  Eleonora  Duse.  To  show  that  others  than  poets 
have  been  inspired  by  Francesca's  unhappy  history,  it  may 
be  of  interest  to  record  the  fact  that  noted  pictures  illustrating 
the  story  have  been  painted  by  many  of  the  greatest  artists. 

To  return  to  that  early  period  in  Italian  history,  so  filled 
with  strife  and  discord,  it  should  be  said  that  in  spite  of 
this  constant  warfare,  the  richer  princes,  especially  in  the 
north  of  Italy,  lived  in  a  most  sumptuous  manner,  and 


112  WOMAN 

prepared  the  way,  to  a  certain  degree,  for  the  splendor  of 
Lorenzo  the  Magnificent,  which  was  to  appear  in  the  cen- 
tury following.  The  women  in  these  regal  courts  were 
clothed  in  the  most  extravagant  fashion,  and  the  precious 
stuffs  and  precious  stones  of  all  the  known  world  were 
laid  at  their  feet  by  their  admirers.  Among  these  affluent 
noblemen  of  the  fourteenth  century,  Galeazzo  Visconti  was 
generally  considered  the  handsomest  man  of  his  age. 
Symonds  tells  us  that  he  was  tall  and  graceful,  with  golden 
hair  which  he  wore  in  long  plaits,  or  tied  up  in  a  net,  or 
else  loose  and  crowned  with  flowers.  By  nature  he  was 
fond  of  display,  liked  to  make  a  great  show  of  his  wealth, 
and  spent  much  money  in  public  entertainments  and  feasts 
and  in  the  construction  of  beautiful  palaces  and  churches. 
His  wealth  was  so  great  and  his  reputation  had  gone  so 
far  abroad  that  he  was  able  to  do  what  other  rich  Italian 
noblemen  accomplished  in  a  somewhat  later  time — arrange 
royal  marriages  for  some  of  his  children.  His  daughter 
Violante  was  wedded  with  great  ceremony  to  the  Duke  of 
Clarence,  son  of  Edward  III.  of  England,  who  is  said  to 
have  received  with  her  as  a  dowry  the  sum  of  two  hun- 
dred thousand  golden  florins,  and  at  the  same  time  five 
cities  on  the  Piedmont  frontier.  London  was  a  muddy, 
unpaved  city  at  this  time,  primitive  in  the  extreme;  the 
houses  were  still  covered  with  thatched  roofs,  beds  were 
still  made  upon  bundles  of  straw  cast  upon  the  floors,  and 
wine  was  so  scarce  that  it  was  generally  sold  for  medicinal 
purposes.  It  has  been  pointed  out  that  it  must  have  been 
a  strange  experience  for  this  English  nobleman  to  leave  all 
that  and  come  to  a  country  of  warmth  and  sunshine,  where 
the  houses  were  large  and  comfortable  and  made  of  mar- 
ble, where  the  streets  were  dry  and  paved,  where  wine 
was  as  plenty  as  water,  and  where  ease  and  luxury  were 
seen  on  every  hand. 


WOMEN  IN  THE  EARLY  RENAISSANCE  113 

This  royal  marriage  was  celebrated  at  Pavia,  where 
Galeazzo  held  his  court,  and  the  historian  Giovio  has  given 
some  curious  and  interesting  details  regarding  it.  He  says 
that  on  the  completion  of  the  ceremony  Galeazzo  gave 
rich  gifts  to  more  than  two  hundred  Englishmen,  and  it 
was  generally  considered  that  he  had  shown  himself  more 
generous  than  the  greatest  kings.  At  the  wedding  feast, 
Gian  Galeazzo,  the  bride's  brother, — who  was  afterward 
married  to  Isabella,  the  daughter  of  King  John  of  France, — 
at  the  head  of  a  band  of  noble  youths,  brought  wonderful 
new  gifts  to  the  table  with  the  arrival  of  each  new  course 
upon  the  bill  of  fare.  "At  one  time  it  was  sixty  most 
beautiful  horses,  adorned  with  gold  and  silver  trappings; 
at  another,  silver  plate,  hawks,  hounds,  fine  cuirasses, 
suits  of  armor  of  wrought  steel,  helmets  decorated  with 
crests,  tunics  adorned  with  pearls,  belts,  precious  jewels 
set  in  gold,  and  great  quantities  of  cloth  of  gold  and  crim- 
son stuff  for  the  making  of  garments.  Such  was  the  pro- 
fusion at  this  banquet  that  the  remnants  taken  from  the 
table  were  more  than  enough  to  supply  ten  thousand 
men."  Not  every  heiress  in  Italy  could  have  gloried  in 
such  a  wedding  feast  as  the  one  given  in  honor  of  Violante 
Visconti,  but  the  wealth  of  these  petty  rulers  was  some- 
thing almost  incredible,  and  the  general  prosperity  of  the 
common  people  passes  belief.  As  has  always  been  the  case 
under  such  circumstances,  increasing  wealth  has  brought 
about  increased  expenditure,  principally  in  matters  of  dress, 
and  the  women  in  particular  seem  to  have  made  the  most  of 
this  opportunity.  Vanity  and  frivolity  multiplied  on  every 
hand  as  a  natural  consequence;  the  Church  was  growing 
daily  less  able  to  cope  with  the  moral  degeneracy  of  the  time 
on  account  of  its  own  immoral  condition;  thus,  the  founda- 
tions were  being  laid  for  those  centuries  of  corruption  and 
national  weakness  which  were  soon  to  follow. 


in  tfje  Slater  Eenafssance 


VII 

WOMEN   IN   THE   LATER   RENAISSANCE 

THE  age  of  Lorenzo  de'  Medici — that  bright  fifteenth 
century — in  the  history  of  the  Italian  peninsula  was  signal- 
ized by  such  achievement  and  definite  result  in  the  intel- 
lectual emancipation  of  the  minds  of  men,  art  and  poetry 
were  given  such  an  impetus  and  showed  promise  of  such 
full  fruition,  that  he  who  would  now  conjure  up  the  picture 
of  that  fair  day  is  well-nigh  lost  in  wonderment  and  awe. 
But  in  this  love  of  art  and  worship  of  the  beautiful  it  soon 
becomes  apparent  that  pagan  influences  were  stealing  into 
daily  life,  and  that  the  religion  of  the  Christian  Church 
was  fast  becoming  an  empty  form  which  had  no  value  as 
a  rule  of  conduct.  Blind  faith  in  the  power  of  the  Vicar  of 
Christ  to  forgive  the  sins  of  this  world  still  remained,  and 
in  that  one  way,  perhaps,  did  the  Church  manage  to  exist 
throughout  this  period;  for  men,  sinful  and  irreligious  and 
blasphemous  as  they  certainly  were,  were  none  the  less  so 
impressed  with  the  possibilities  of  suffering  in  a  future 
state  that  they  insisted  upon  priestly  absolution — which 
they  accepted  with  implicit  confidence — before  setting  out 
upon  their  journey  into  the  Unknown.  The  most  terrible 
crimes  were  matters  of  common  occurrence  and  were 
allowed  to  go  unrebuked,  at  least  by  the  moral  sentiment 
of  the  community;  adultery  was  too  frequent,  murder 
caused  little  comment,  and  incest  was  not  unknown.  The 

117 


Il8  WOMAN 

pursuit  of  pleasure  was  of  no  less  importance  than  the  pur- 
suit of  fame  and  glory;  the  Italian  idea  of  honor  was  in 
perfect  harmony  with  deceit  and  treachery  and  unclean 
living,  and  a  married  woman  was  considered  above  re- 
proach so  long  as  she  did  not  allow  her  acts  of  infidelity  to 
become  known  to  all  the  world. 

In  an  age  of  this  kind  it  cannot  be  said  that  the  women 
occupied  a  position  which  is  to  be  envied  by  the  women  of 
to-day.  It  is  not  to  be  expected  that  the  women  will 
show  themselves  better  than  the  men  at  such  a  time, 
and  when  was  there  a  better  opportunity  for  vice  to 
run  riot?  The  convents  of  the  time  were,  almost  with- 
out exception,  perfect  brothels,  and  the  garb  of  the  virgin 
nun  was  shown  scant  respect — and  was  entitled  to  still 
less.  Venice  became  a  modern  Corinth,  and  was  a  resort 
for  all  the  profligates  of  the  continent;  it  was  estimated 
that  there  were  twelve  thousand  prostitutes  within  its 
gates  at  the  beginning  of  the  fifteenth  century.  A  century 
later,  Rome  counted  no  less  than  seven  thousand  of  these 
unsavory  citizens,  and  they,  with  their  villainous  male 
confederates,  who  were  ever  ready  to  rob,  levy  blackmail, 
or  commit  murder,  did  much  to  make  the  Holy  City  almost 
uninhabitable  in  the  days  of  Pope  Innocent  VIII.  As 
Symonds  has  said,  the  want  of  a  coordinating  principle  is 
everywhere  apparent  in  this  Italian  civilization;  the  indi- 
vidual has  reached  his  personal  freedom,  but  he  has  not 
yet  come  to  a  comprehension  of  that  higher  liberty  which 
is  law;  passions  are  unbridled,  the  whim  of  the  moment 
is  an  all-compelling  power,  and  the  time  was  yet  far  in 
the  distance  when  society  could  feel  itself  upon  a  firm 
foundation. 

From  all  that  can  be  learned,  it  appears  that  women 
were  not  treated  with  any  special  respect;  men  were  free 
to  indulge  in  the  most  ribald  conversation  in  their  presence, 


WOMEN  IN  THE  LATER  RENAISSANCE  1 19 

and  it  has  yet  to  be  proved  that  they  took  offence  at  this 
unbecoming  liberty.  The  songs  which  were  composed  at 
Carnival  time  were  dedicated  to  the  ladies  especially,  and 
yet  in  all  literature  it  would  be  difficult  to  find  anything 
more  indecent.  Society  was  simply  in  a  crude  state  so  far 
as  its  ideas  of  decency  and  delicacy  were  concerned,  and 
both  men  and  women  were  often  lacking  in  what  are  now 
considered  to  be  the  most  elementary  notions  of  propriety. 
As  the  men  were  by  far  the  more  active  and  the  more  im- 
portant members  of  each  community,  it  cannot  be  said  that 
women  were  looked  upon  with  equal  consideration.  The 
Oriental  idea  of  women  in  general,  as  domestic  animals 
whose  duty  it  was  to  minister  to  the  wants  and  pleasures 
of  their  master  and  superior,  lordly  man,  was  but  slowly 
vanishing,  and  many  centuries  of  suffering,  experience,  and 
education  were  to  intervene  before  saner  and  truer  notions 
could  prevail.  Lorenzo  de'  Medici,  in  writing  of  a  beauti- 
ful and  talented  woman,  makes  the  following  statement: 
"  Her  understanding  was  superior  to  her  sex,  but  without 
the  appearance  of  arrogance  or  presumption;  and  she 
avoided  an  error  too  common  among  women,  who,  when 
they  think  themselves  sensible,  become  for  the  most  part 
insupportable."  It  is  evident  that  if  women  were  generally 
held  in  as  high  esteem  as  men,  it  is  altogether  unlikely 
that  the  expression  "superior  to  her  sex"  would  have 
been  employed,  and  the  latter  part  of  the  sentence  leads  to 
the  further  inference  that  pretentious  and  pedantic  women 
of  the  kind  referred  to  were  not  altogether  uncommon  at 
this  time. 

No  better  illustration  of  the  relative  position  of  women 
in  society  can  be  found  than  in  one  of  the  letters  received 
by  Lorenzo  from  his  wife,  who  was  a  member  of  the  old 
and  proud  Orsini  family,  which  was  much  more  aristo- 
cratic than  his  own.  She  addresses  him  by  the  term 


120  WOMAN 

Magnifice  Conjux,  which  certainly  does  not  betoken  a  very 
great  degree  of  intimacy  between  husband  and  wife;  and 
the  letter  concerns  the  unbearable  conduct  of  the  poet 
Poliziano,  who  was  then  an  inmate  of  their  house  and  the 
private  teacher  of  their  children.  It  seems  that  he  had 
persecuted  her  with  his  attentions,  and  she  is  led  to  pro- 
test against  his  continued  employment.  In  spite  of  her 
protest,  however,  she  meekly  adds:  "Know,  I  should  say 
to  you,  that  if  you  desire  him  to  remain,  I  shall  be  very 
content,  although  I  have  endured  his  uttering  to  me  a 
thousand  villainies.  If  this  is  with  your  permission,  I  am 
patient,  but  I  cannot  believe  such  a  thing."  Lorenzo's 
behavior  upon  the  receipt  of  this  letter  will  be  of  interest 
and  will  throw  much  light  upon  the  question  involved. 
Did  he  burn  with  indignation  at  this  story  of  Poliziano's 
disgraceful  conduct  and  did  he  dismiss  him  from  his  service 
forthwith  as  one  unworthy  of  his  trust?  By  no  means. 
The  children  were  soon  after  taken  away  from  their 
mother's  supervision  and  sent  off  to  a  villa  not  far  from 
Florence,  where  they  were  put  entirely  under  the  control 
of  the  man  who  had  just  insulted  their  mother!  Further- 
more, Boccaccio  wrote,  at  a  somewhat  earlier  date  it  is 
true,  but  in  a  state  of  society  which  differed  little  from 
that  under  discussion,  that  women  were  of  little  real  con- 
sequence in  the  world,  and  that  "since  but  few  good 
ones  are  to  be  found  among  them,  they  are  to  be  avoided 
altogether." 

The  position  occupied  by  women  in  the  eyes  of  the  law 
is  somewhat  more  difficult  to  determine,  but  it  may  be 
said  with  certainty  that  they  took  no  part  in  the  public 
duties  of  life  and  seem  to  have  manifested  no  yearnings 
in  that  direction.  They  did  not  vote  or  hold  public  office, 
and  would  no  doubt  have  looked  inquiringly  and  without 
comprehension  at  anyone  who  proposed  such  possibilities. 


WOMEN  IN  THE  LATER  RENAISSANCE  121 

Women  were  evidently  being  shielded  and  protected  as 
much  as  possible;  property  was  rarely  held  by  them  in 
their  own  names,  and  the  laws  appear  to  have  been  made 
for  the  men  almost  exclusively.  It  will  be  remembered, 
perhaps,  that  when  Dante  was  banished  from  Florence, 
his  wife  was  allowed  to  continue  her  residence  in  that  city 
without  molestation,  and  was  even  able  to  save  much  of 
their  property  from  confiscation  and  devote  it  to  the  educa- 
tion of  their  children.  Later  on,  when  Carlo  Strozzi  was 
sent  away  in  exile,  his  family  was  not  disturbed  in  the 
least,  and  it  was  during  his  absence  from  the  city  that  his 
daughter  Maddalena  was  married  to  Luchino  Visconti  in 
the  midst  of  most  brilliant  ceremonies.  Guests  were  in- 
vited from  all  the  north  of  Italy,  there  were  horseraces 
and  tournaments,  and  the  whole  function  was  one  of  great 
pomp  and  brilliancy.  The  brothers  and  grown  sons  of 
exiled  citizens  were  never  accorded  such  consideration,  and 
it  is  but  fair  to  assume  that  the  popular  sentiment  of  the 
time  demanded  this  exceptional  treatment  for  the  women. 
At  one  time  it  was  even  held  to  be  against  the  Florentine 
statutes  to  banish  a  woman;  in  1497,  at  the  time  of  a  con- 
spiracy to  restore  the  banished  Piero  de'  Medici  to  power, 
his  sister,  though  proved  to  have  conspired  in  equal  meas- 
ure with  the  men,  was  not  given  an  equal  measure  of 
punishment;  she  was  merely  kept  in  seclusion  for  a  period 
at  the  palace  of  Guglielmo  de'  Pazzi,  and  was  then  set  at 
liberty  through  the  influence  of  Francesco  Valori,  to  whom 
it  seemed  unworthy  to  lay  hands  upon  a  woman. 

In  the  midst  of  this  exciting  and  excited  world,  it  may 
well  be  imagined  that  the  passions  were  strong  and  that 
women  of  charm  and  beauty  were  able  to  exercise  no  little 
influence  upon  the  men  who  came  within  their  power. 
Never,  perhaps,  in  the  history  of  modern  civilization  has 
the  aesthetic  instinct  of  a  people  been  so  thoroughly  aroused 


122  WOMAN 

as  it  was  in  Italy  at  this  time,  and  the  almost  pagan  love 
of  beauty  which  possessed  them  led  to  many  extravagances 
in  their  sentimental  conceptions.  As  Lorenzo  de'  Medici 
was  the  most  powerful  and  distinguished  Italian  of  his 
time,  so  may  he  be  termed  its  representative  lover,  for  his 
excursions  into  the  land  of  sentiment  may  be  considered  as 
typical  of  his  day  and  generation.  The  first  passion  of  his 
heart  was  purely  subjective  and  artificial,  the  result  of  a 
forcing  process  which  had  been  induced  by  the  power  of 
brotherly  love.  It  so  happened  that  Lorenzo's  brother 
Giuliano,  who  was  assassinated  later  by  the  Pazzi,  loved, 
very  tenderly,  a  lady  named  Simonetta,  reputed  to  be  the 
most  beautiful  woman  in  all  Florence;  so  great  was  her 
fame  that  she  was  quite  generally  spoken  of  as  la  bella 
Simonetta,  and  the  artist  Botticelli,  who  had  an  eye  for  a 
pretty  woman,  has  left  us  a  portrait  which  vouches  for 
her  charms  in  no  uncertain  way.  She  was  but  a  fragile 
flower,  however,  and  died  in  the  bloom  of  youth,  mourned 
by  her  lover  with  such  genuine  grief  that,  with  one  im- 
pulse, all  sought  to  bring  him  consolation.  Letters  of 
condolence  were  written  in  prose  and  verse,  sonnets  were 
fairly  showered  upon  him,  and  Greek  and  Latin  were  used 
as  often  as  Italian  in  giving  expression  to  the  universal 
sorrow.  But  how  all  this  affected  Lorenzo,  and  what 
inspiration  it  gave  to  his  muse,  he  had  best  relate  in  his 
own  words,  for  the  tale  is  not  devoid  of  romance,  and  he 
alone  can  do  it  justice: 

"A  young  lady  of  great  personal  charm  happened  to  die 
at  Florence;  and  as  she  had  been  very  generally  admired 
and  beloved,  so  her  death  was  as  generally  lamented.  Nor 
was  this  to  be  marvelled  at,  for  she  possessed  such  beauty 
and  such  engaging  manners  that  almost  every  person  who 
had  any  acquaintance  with  her  flattered  himself  that  he 
had  obtained  the  chief  place  in  her  affections.  Her  sad 


WOMEN  IN  THE  LATER  RENAISSANCE  123 

death  excited  the  extreme  regret  of  her  admirers;  and  as 
she  was  carried  to  the  place  of  burial,  with  her  face  uncov- 
ered, those  who  had  known  her  in  life  pressed  about  her 
for  a  last  look  at  the  object  of  their  adoration,  and  then 
accompanied  her  funeral  with  their  tears.  On  this  occa- 
sion, all  the  eloquence  and  all  the  wit  of  Florence  were 
exerted  in  paying  due  honors  to  her  memory,  both  in 
verse  and  prose.  Among  the  rest,  I,  also,  composed  a  few 
sonnets,  and,  in  order  to  give  them  greater  effect,  I  tried 
to  convince  myself  that  I  too  had  been  deprived  of  the 
object  of  my  love,  and  to  excite  in  my  own  mind  all  those 
passions  which  might  enable  me  to  move  the  affections  of 
others." 

In  this  attempt  to  put  himself  in  the  place  of  another, 
Lorenzo  de'  Medici  began  to  wonder  how  it  would  seem  to 
have  such  grief  to  bear  on  his  own  account;  and  then  his 
thoughts  went  still  further  afield,  and  he  found  himself 
speculating  as  to  whether  or  not  another  lady  could  be 
found  of  the  same  merit  and  beauty  as  the  lamented 
Simonetta.  In  the  midst  of  the  great  number  of  those 
who  were  writing  eulogistic  poetry  in  this  lady's  honor, 
Lorenzo  began  to  feel  that  the  situation  lacked  distinction, 
and  he  was  not  slow  to  realize  what  great  reputation  might 
be  acquired  by  the  lucky  mortal  who  could  unearth  an- 
other divinity  of  equal  charm.  For  some  time  he  tried  in 
vain,  and  then  suddenly  success  crowned  his  efforts,  and 
he  has  told  us  in  what  manner.  "A  public  festival  was 
held  in  Florence,  to  which  all  that  was  noble  and  beautiful 
in  the  city  resorted.  To  this  I  was  brought  by  some  of 
my  companions  (I  suppose  as  my  destiny  led)  against  my 
will,  for  I  had  for  some  time  past  avoided  such  exhibitions; 
or  if  at  times  I  had  attended  them,  it  proceeded  rather 
from  a  compliance  with  custom  than  from  any  pleasure  I 
experienced  in  them.  Among  the  ladies  there  assembled, 


124  WOMAN 

I  saw  one  of  such  sweet  and  charming  manners  that  I  could 
not  help  saying,  as  I  looked  at  her,  '  If  this  person  were 
possessed  of  the  delicacy,  the  understanding,  and  the  ac- 
complishments of  her  who  is  lately  dead,  most  certainly 
she  excels  her  in  the  charm  of  her  person.'  Resigning 
myself  to  my  passion,  I  endeavored  to  discover,  if  possible, 
how  far  her  manners  and  conversation  agreed  with  her 
appearance;  and  here  I  found  such  an  assemblage  of  ex- 
traordinary endowments  that  it  is  difficult  to  say  whether 
she  excelled  more  in  person  or  in  mind.  Her  beauty  was, 
as  I  have  said  before,  astonishing.  She  was  of  a  just  and 
proper  height.  Her  complexion  was  extremely  fair,  but 
not  pale,  blooming,  but  not  ruddy.  Her  countenance  was 
serious  without  being  severe,  mild  and  pleasant  without 
levity  or  vulgarity.  Her  eyes  were  sparkling,  but  with- 
out indication  of  pride  or  conceit.  Her  whole  figure  was 
so  finely  proportioned  that  amongst  other  women  she  ap- 
peared with  superior  dignity,  yet  free  from  the  least  degree 
of  formality  or  affectation.  In  walking  or  in  dancing,  or 
in  other  exercises  which  display  the  person,  every  motion 
was  elegant  and  appropriate.  Her  sentiments  were  always 
just  and  striking  and  have  furnished  me  material  for  some 
of  my  sonnets;  she  always  spoke  at  the  proper  time,  and 
always  to  the  purpose,  so  that  nothing  could  be  added, 
nothing  taken  away.  ...  To  recount  all  her  excel- 
lencies would  far  exceed  my  present  limits,  and  I  shall 
therefore  conclude  with  affirming  that  there  was  nothing 
which  could  be  desired  in  a  beautiful  and  accomplished 
woman  which  was  not  in  her  most  abundantly  found.  By 
these  qualities,  I  was  so  captivated  that  not  a  power  or 
faculty  of  my  body  or  mind  remained  any  longer  at  liberty, 
and  I  could  not  help  considering  the  lady  who  had  died  as 
the  star  of  Venus,  which  at  the  approach  of  the  sun  is 
totally  overpowered  and  extinguished." 


WOMEN  IN  THE  LATER  RENAISSANCE  12$ 

The  name  of  this  wondrous  lady  is  carefully  kept  in  the 
background  by  Lorenzo,  but  from  other  sources  she  is 
known  to  have  been  Lucrezia  Donati,  a  lady  of  noble 
birth,  celebrated  for  her  goodness  and  beauty,  and  a  mem- 
ber of  that  same  Donati  family  to  which  Dante's  wife  be- 
longed. At  the  time  of  this  love  affair,  Lorenzo  was  about 
twenty,  and  the  lady  was  somewhat  older,  but  that  made 
no  difference  to  the  young  poet,  who  immediately  began  to 
exhibit  all  those  symptoms  which  have  become  traditional 
in  such  maladies  of  the  heart.  He  lost  his  appetite,  grew 
pale,  shunned  the  society  of  even  his  dearest  friends,  took 
long,  solitary  walks,  and  wrote  many  an  ode  and  sonnet  in 
honor  of  the  fair  Donati.  But  she  was  indeed  a  divinity 
rather  than  a  friend,  and  his  oft-expressed  delight  in  her 
many  charms  was  rather  intellectual  than  emotional  and 
passionate.  She  becomes  for  him,  in  truth,  a  very  sun  of 
blazing  beauty,  which  he  looks  upon  to  admire,  but  the 
fire  of  the  lover  is  entirely  wanting.  While  it  was  no 
such  mystic  attachment  as  that  professed  by  Dante  for 
Beatrice,  it  no  doubt  resembles  it  from  certain  points  of 
view,  as,  in  each  case,  the  lover  has  little  actual  acquaint- 
ance with  the  object  of  his  affections.  But  there  this 
comparison  must  end,  for  it  has  been  explained  how  Dante 
derived  a  certain  moral  and  spiritual  benefit  from  his  early 
brooding  love,  and  in  the  more  modern  instance  nothing 
of  the  kind  is  apparent.  On  the  contrary,  everything 
seems  to  show  that  Lorenzo  was  at  an  age  when  his 
"fancy  lightly  turned  to  thoughts  of  love,"  and,  being 
of  a  poetic  temperament,  he  amused  himself  by  writing 
amorous  poetry  which  came  from  the  head  and  not  the 
heart.  The  characteristic  traits  of  thfs  poetry,  then,  are 
grace  and  elegance,  sonority  and  rhythm;  it  lacks  sincer- 
ity and  that  impetuous  flow  of  sentiment  which  is  gen- 
erally indicative  of  intense  feeling.  It  cannot  be  denied, 


126  WOMAN 

however,  that  he  often  reached  a  high  plane;  perhaps  the 
following  lines  show  him  at  his  best: 

"  Quale  sopra  i  nevosi  ed  alti  monti 
Apollo  spande  il  suo  bel  lume  adomo, 
Tal'  i  crin  suoi  sopra  la  bianca  gonna  I 
II  tempo  e'l  luogo  non  ch'io  conti, 
Che  dov'e  si  bel  sole  e  sempre  giomo ; 
E  Paradise,  ov'e  si  bella  Donna !" 

[As  Apollo  sheds  his  golden  beams  over  the  snowy  sum- 
mits of  the  lofty  mountains,  so  flowed  her  golden  tresses 
over  her  gown  of  white.  But  I  need  not  note  the  time 
and  place,  for  where  shines  so  fair  a  sun  it  can  be  naught 
but  day,  and  where  dwells  my  lady  fair  can  be  but 
Paradise!] 

While  still  preoccupied  with  what  Mrs.  Jameson  terms 
his  visions  of  love  and  poetry,  he  was  called  upon  by  his 
father,  at  the  age  of  twenty-one,  to  marry,  for  political 
reasons,  a  woman  whom  he  had  never  seen — Clarice 
Orsini.  That  the  marriage  was  unexpected  is  attested 
by  a  note  in  his  diary  to  this  effect:  "I,  Lorenzo,  took 
to  wife,  Donna  Clarice  Orsini,  or  rather  she  was  given  to 
me,"  on  such  and  such  a  day.  The  ceremony  was  per- 
formed in  Naples,  it  appears,  but  the  wedding  festivities 
were  celebrated  in  Florence,  and  never  was  there  a  more 
brilliant  scene  in  all  the  city's  history.  The  fete  began 
on  a  Sunday  morning  and  lasted  until  midday  of  the  Tues- 
day following,  and  for  that  space  of  time  almost  the  entire 
population  was  entertained  and  fed  by  the  Medici.  On 
this  occasion  the  wedding  presents  took  a  practical  turn, 
in  part,  for,  from  friends  and  from  some  of  the  neighboring 
villages  subject  to  the  rule  of  Florence,  supplies  were  sent 
in  great  quantities;  among  the  number,  record  is  made  of 
eight  hundred  calves  and  two  thousand  pairs  of  chickens! 
There  were  music  and  dancing  by  day  and  by  night; 


WOMEN  IN  THE  LATER  RENAISSANCE  I2/ 

musicians  were  stationed  in  various  parts  of  the  city,  and 
about  them  the  dancers  filled  the  streets.  An  adequate 
conception  of  this  scene  will  perhaps  be  a  matter  of  some 
difficulty,  but  those  who  know  something  of  the  way  in 
which  the  people  in  modern  Paris  dance  upon  the  smooth 
pavements  on  the  night  of  the  national  holiday,  the  Qua- 
torze  Juillet,  will  possess  at  least  a  faint  idea  of  what  it 
must  have  been.  That  all  classes  of  the  population  were 
cared  for  at  this  great  festival  is  proved  by  the  fact  that 
one  hundred  kegs  of  wine  were  consumed  daily,  and 
that  five  thousand  pounds  of  sweetmeats  and  candies  were 
distributed  among  the  people. 

The  marriage  of  the  poet  Ariosto  with  the  beautiful 
Alessandra  Strozzi,  widow  of  Tito  Strozzi,  a  noble  Floren- 
tine who  was  famed  in  his  day  for  his  Latin  poetry,  was 
not  concluded  with  any  such  display  and  magnificence,  the 
author  of  the  Orlando  Furioso  being  in  no  position  which 
made  it  necessary  for  him  to  entertain  the  whole  popula- 
tion, and  having  ideas  all  his  own  regarding  the  advantage 
of  publicity  in  such  matters.  Long  before  Ariosto's  mar- 
riage, however,  in  the  days  of  his  youth  and  before  he  had 
ever  set  eyes  upon  the  Titian-haired  Alessandra,  he  fell 
captive  to  the  charms  of  Ginevra  Lapi,  a  young  girl  of 
Florentine  family,  who  lived  at  or  near  Mantua.  He  met 
her  first  at  a  festa  di  ballo,  we  are  told,  and  there  he  was 
much  impressed  with  her  grace  and  beauty,  for  she  seemed 
like  a  young  goddess  among  her  less  favored  companions. 
Then  began  that  attachment  which  lasted  for  long  years 
and  which  seems  to  have  inspired  much  of  his  earlier  lyric 
poetry.  Four  years  after  their  first  meeting  he  writes  that 
she  was  "dearer  to  him  than  his  own  soul  and  fairer  than 
ever  in  his  eyes,"  and  she  seems  to  have  made  a  very 
strong  impression  upon  his  mind,  as  he  mentions  her  long 
afterward  with  most  genuine  tenderness.  What  more 


128  WOMAN 

than  this  may  be  said  of  Ginevra  Lapi  has  not  yet  come 
to  light,  and  it  is  due  to  the  poet  alone  that  her  name 
has  been  handed  down  to  posterity.  If  Ariosto  had  been 
an  expansive  and  communicative  man,  we  might  know  far 
more  than  we  do  of  Ginevra  and  of  the  other  friends  of  his 
youth,  for  he  was  a  person  of  most  impressionable  nature, 
who  was  very  susceptible  to  the  allurements  of  beautiful 
women,  and  there  is  no  doubt  of  the  fact  that  he  had 
a  certain  compelling  charm  which  made  him  almost  irre- 
sistible with  the  ladies  of  his  entourage.  However,  the 
history  of  his  affairs  of  the  heart  has  baffled  all  investiga- 
tors as  yet,  because  the  poet,  from  the  very  earliest  days 
of  his  youth,  made  it  a  rule  never  to  boast  of  his  con- 
quests or  to  speak  of  his  friends  in  any  public  way.  As 
a  symbol  of  this  gallant  rule  of  conduct,  there  is  still  pre- 
served at  Ferrara  one  of  Ariosto's  inkstands,  which  is 
ornamented  with  a  little  bronze  Cupid,  finger  upon  lip  in 
token  of  silence. 

Early  biographers  and  literary  historians  were  inclined 
to  give  to  Ginevra  Lapi  all  credit  for  the  more  serious  in- 
spiration which  prompted  him  to  write  the  major  part  of 
his  amatory  verse,  and  so  careful  had  he  been  to  conceal 
the  facts  that  it  was  not  until  many  years  after  his  death 
that  his  marriage  to  Alessandra  Strozzi  was  generally 
known.  Ariosto  had  been  on  a  visit  to  Rome  in  the  year 
1515,  and,  on  his  return,  he  chanced  to  stop  at  Florence, 
where  he  intended  to  spend  three  or  four  days  during  the 
grand  festival  which  was  being  held  in  honor  of  Saint  John 
the  Baptist.  Arriving  just  in  time  to  be  present  at  some 
social  function  of  importance,  the  poet  there  saw  for  the 
first  time  this  lady  who  was  to  mean  so  much  to  him  for 
all  the  rest  of  his  life.  It  will  be  remembered  that  when 
Lorenzo  de'  Medici  first  met  Lucrezia  Donati  he  had  been 
taken  to  some  evening  company,  much  against  his  will. 


WOMEN  IN  THE  LATER  RENAISSANCE  1 29 

In  the  present  instance,  it  was  the  lady  who  showed  dis- 
inclination to  go  into  society,  and  her  recent  widowhood 
gave  her  good  reason  for  her  feeling  in  the  matter;  but, 
won  over  by  the  entreaties  of  her  friends,  da  preghi  vinta, 
she  finally  consented  to  go.  What  she  wore  and  how  she. 
looked,  and  how  she  bore  herself,  and  much  more,  do  we 
know  from  Ariosto's  glowing  lines  which  were  written  in" 
commemoration  of  this  event.  Her  gown  was  of  black,  all 
embroidered  with  bunches  of  grapes  and  grape  leaves  in 
purple  and  gold.  Her  luxuriant  blond  hair,  the  richissima 
capellatura  Honda,  was  gathered  in  a  net  behind  and, 
parted  in  the  middle,  fell  to  her  shoulders  in  long  curls  on 
either  side  of  her  face;  and  on  her  forehead,  just  where  the 
hair  was  parted,  she  wore  a  twig  of  laurel,  cunningly 
wrought  in  gold  and  precious  stones. 

Alessandra's  most  effective  charm  was  her  wonderful 
hair,  of  that  color  which  had  been  made  famous  by  the 
pictures  of  Titian  and  Giorgione,  and  it  really  seems  that 
in  Ariosto's  time  this  color  was  so  ardently  desired  that 
hair  dyes  were  in  common  use,  especially  in  Venice.  It  is 
with  a  feeling  of  some  regret  that  we  are  led  to  reflect  that 
much  of  that  gorgeous  hair  which  we  have  admired  for  so 
many  years  in  the  famous  paintings  of  the  Venetian 
masters  may  be  artificial  in  its  brilliant  coloring,  but  such, 
alas!  is  probably  the  case.  The  fair  Alessandra,  never- 
theless, had  no  need  to  resort  to  the  dye  pots  of  Venice, 
as  Mother  Nature  had  been  generous  in  the  extreme,  and 
the  poet  was  inspired  by  the  truth,  if  the  painters  of  the 
time  were  not.  How  unfortunate,  then,  that  a  serious 
illness  was  the  means  of  her  being  shorn  of  this  crowning 
glory!  Her  attending  physician  decided  upon  one  occasion 
that  it  would  be  necessary  to  cut  her  hair  to  save  her  life, 
but  later  events  proved  that  he  had  been  over  anxious  and 
that  this  desperate  remedy  had  been  entirely  uncalled  for. 


1 30  WOMAN 

Ariosto,  as  may  well  be  believed,  was  indignant  at  the 
sacrifice,  and  wrote  three  sonnets  regarding  it  before  he 
cooled  his  anger.  In  one  of  these  passionate  protests 
occur  the  following  lines,  which  will  give  some  idea  of  his 
highly  colored  style  and  at  the  same  time  show  us  what 
an  important  place  Alessandra  Strozzi  must  have  held  in 
his  affections:  "  When  I  think,  as  I  do  a  thousand  times  a 
day,  upon  those  golden  tresses,  which  neither  wisdom  nor 
necessity  but  hasty  folly  tore,  alas!  from  that  fair  head,  I 
am  enraged,  my  cheeks  burn  with  anger,  even  tears  gush 
forth  bathing  my  face  and  bosom.  I  would  die,  could  I 
but  be  avenged  upon  the  impious  stupidity  of  that  rash 
hand.  O  Love,  if  such  wrong  goes  unpunished,  thine  be 
the  reproach!  .  .  .  Wilt  thou  suffer  the  loveliest  and 
dearest  of  thy  possessions  to  be  boldly  ravished  and  yet 
bear  it  in  silence?" 

Though  Ariosto  had  come  to  Florence  to  spend  but  a 
summer  day  or  two  at  Saint  John's  feast,  his  visit  length- 
ened into  weeks,  and  full  six  months  had  rolled  around 
before  he  could  tear  himself  away  after  that  first  eventful 
evening.  As  his  time  was  spent  with  his  friend  Vespucci, 
Alessandra's  brother-in-law,  he  had  ample  opportunity 
to  bask  in  her  smiles  without  exciting  unfavorable  com- 
ment; and  when  he  finally  did  depart,  he  left  his  heart 
behind  him.  From  that  day  until  the  time  of  his  death 
it  was  known  that  he  loved  her,  but  their  names  were 
never  coupled  in  any  scandalous  way,  and  it  was  only 
after  the  death  of  the  poet  that  the  fact  was  known  that 
they  had  been  secretly  married.  No  one  has  been  able  to 
give  the  exact  date  of  this  marriage,  but  there  is  now  little 
doubt  with  regard  to  the  fact  itself,  and  certain  evidence 
leads  to  the  conclusion  that  the  wedding  must  have  taken 
place  in  the  year  1 522.  Why  this  matter  was  kept  a  secret 
has  given  rise  to  much  speculation,  for  it  would  appear  to 


WOMEN  IN  THE  LATER  RENAISSANCE  131 

the  superficial  observer  that  a  public  acknowledgment  of 
the  fact  might  have  been  a  matter  of  pride  to  either  the 
poet  or  the  Signora  Strozzi.  Family  reasons  have  been 
alleged  by  Baruffaldi,  one  of  Ariosto's  many  biographers, 
but  they  seem  entirely  inadequate  and  unsatisfactory,  and 
the  whole  matter  still  remains  shrouded  in  mystery. 

One  side  of  the  question  which  has  not  perhaps  been 
presented  before  is  this — would  there  have  been  any 
change  in  the  tone  of  Ariosto's  lyric  verse  if  Alessandra 
had  been  known  to  all  the  world  as  his  wife?  With  the 
possible  exceptions  of  the  Brownings  and  one  or  two 
others,  the  case  is  hardly  recorded  where  a  poet  has  been 
inspired  to  his  highest  efforts  by  his  wedded  wife,  and  it 
is  extremely  problematical  whether  or  not  in  the  present 
instance  the  fire  and  fervor  of  Ariosto's  lines  could  have 
been  kindled  at  a  domestic  hearth  which  all  the  world 
might  see.  The  secret  marriage  was  probably  insisted 
upon  by  the  wife,  and  all  honor  to  Alessandra  Strozzi  for 
her  pure  heart  in  that  corrupt  time!  But  the  fact  was 
probably  kept  hidden  to  gratify  some  whim  of  the  poet. 
The  very  situation  is  tinged  with  the  romantic,  the  old 
adage  about  stolen  sweets  was  undoubtedly  as  true  in  that 
time  as  it  is  to-day,  and  the  poet  had  a  restless  nature 
which  could  ill  brook  the  ordinary  yoke  of  Hymen.  So 
long  as  he  could  live  in  the  Via  Mirasole,  and  Alessandra 
in  the  stately  Casa  Strozzi,  Ferrara  had  charms  for  him, 
and  his  muse  was  all  aflame.  Would  this  have  been  true 
if  one  roof  had  sheltered  them? 

Whatever  the  verdict  may  be  in  this  matter,  the  fact 
remains  that  all  of  Ariosto's  lyric  poetry  and  many  of  the 
passages  in  the  Orlando  Furioso  were  inspired  by  his  real 
love  for  some  woman,  and  it  was  this  living,  burning 
passion  which  gives  him  his  preeminence  as  a  poet.  He 
had  mannerisms,  it  is  true,  and  much  that  he  wrote  is  apt 


1 32  WOMAN 

to  appear  stilted  to  the  ordinary  English  reader,  but  such 
mannerisms  are  only  the  national  characteristics  of  most 
Italian  poetry  and  must  be  viewed  in  that  light.  On  the 
other  hand,  Ariosto's  evident  sincerity  is  in  striking  con- 
trast to  the  cold,  intellectual,  amatory  verse  of  Lorenzo 
de'  Medici,  which  was,  in  truth,  but  an  aesthetic  diversion 
for  that  brilliant  prince.  And  even  this  was  due  to  the 
inspiration  he  received  from  the  sight  of  a  fair  lady,  many 
years  his  senior,  for  whom  he  had  a  most  distant,  formal, 
Platonic  affection,  while  it  never  dawned  upon  him  that  his 
own  wife's  beauty  might  deserve  a  sonnet  now  and  then. 


SFfte  Borgias  antr  tfje  ISatr  a®omen  of 
tfte  Sfcrteentf)  ©enturg 


VIII 

THE  BORGIAS  AND  THE   BAD  WOMEN  OF  THE 
SIXTEENTH   CENTURY 

THINGS  went  from  bad  to  worse,  as  is  their  habit,  and 
Italian  life  in  the  sixteenth  century  shows  an  increasing 
corruption  and  a  laxity  in  public  morals  which  were  but 
the  natural  result  of  the  free-thinking  Renaissance.  The 
Church  had  completely  lost  its  influence  as  the  spiritual 
head  of  Europe,  and  had  become  but  a  hypocritical  prin- 
cipality, greedy  for  temporal  power,  and  openly  trafficking 
in  ecclesiastical  offices  which  were  once  supposed  to  belong 
by  right  to  men  of  saintly  lives;  it  is  probable  that  this 
barefaced  profligacy  of  the  papal  court  was  responsible  for 
the  widespread  moral  inertia  which  was  characteristic  of  the 
time.  The  pontiff's  chair  at  the  dawn  of  this  century  was 
filled  by  Roderigo  Borgia,  known  as  Alexander  VI.,  and  it 
may  well  be  said  that  his  career  of  crime  and  lust  gave  the 
keynote  to  the  society  which  was  to  follow  him.  By  means 
of  most  open  bribery  he  had  been  elected  to  his  office,  but, 
in  spite  of  these  well-known  facts,  his  advent  was  hailed 
with  great  joy  and  his  inarch  to  the  Vatican  was  a  veri- 
table triumph.  Contemporary  historians  unite  in  praising 
him  at  this  time  in  his  career,  for  as  a  cardinal  he  had 
been  no  worse  in  his  immoralities  than  many  of  his  col- 
leagues; and  he  was  a  man  of  commanding  presence  and 
marked  abilities,  who  seemed  to  embody  the  easy  grace 
and  indifference  of  his  day.  It  was  said  of  him  as  he  rode 

135 


1 36  WOMAN 

to  assume  the  mantle  of  Saint  Peter:  "He  sits  upon  a 
snow-white  horse,  with  serene  forehead,  with  commanding 
dignity.  How  admirable  is  the  mild  composure  of  his 
mien!  how  noble  his  countenance!  his  glance — how  free!" 
And  it  was  said  that  the  heroic  beauty  of  his  whole  body 
was  given  him  by  Nature  in  order  that  he  might  adorn  the 
seat  of  the  Apostles  with  his  divine  form,  in  the  place  of 
God!  What  blasphemy  this  was!  but  it  shows  the  moral 
level  of  the  day.  His  intercourse  with  Vanozza  Catanei 
was  open  and  notorious,  and  she  was  the  mother  of  that 
Lucrezia  Borgia  whose  ill  repute  is  dying  a  hard  death  in 
the  face  of  modern  attempts  at  rehabilitation.  His  liaison 
with  Giulia  Farnese,  known  as  la  bella  Giulia,  the  lawful 
wife  of  Orsino  Orsini,  was  no  less  conspicuous,  and  these 
two  women  had  a  great  influence  upon  him  throughout  his 
whole  lifetime.  It  had  already  been  said  of  him:  "He  is 
handsome,  of  a  most  glad  countenance  and  joyous  aspect, 
gifted  with  honeyed  and  choice  eloquence;  the  beautiful 
women  on  whom  he  casts  his  eyes  are  charmed  to  love 
him,  and  he  moves  them  in  a  wondrous  way,  more  power- 
fully than  the  magnet  influences  iron;"  but  this  seduction 
in  his  manner  cannot  be  considered  as  merely  an  innocent 
result  of  his  great  personal  beauty,  because  his  lustful 
disposition  is  well  proved,  and  sensuality  was  always  his 
greatest  vice.  Symonds  makes  the  statement  that  within 
the  sacred  walls  of  the  Vatican  he  maintained  a  harem  in 
truly  Oriental  fashion;  and  here  were  doubtless  sent,  from 
all  parts  of  the  papal  states,  those  daughters  of  Venus  who 
were  willing  to  minister  to  the  joys  of  His  Holiness.  To 
cap  the  climax,  imagine  the  effrontery  of  a  pope  who 
dared,  in  the  face  of  the  ecclesiastical  rule  enjoining  celi- 
bacy upon  the  priesthood,  to  parade  his  delinquencies 
before  the  eyes  of  all  the  world,  and  seat  himself  in  state, 
for  a  solemn  pageant  at  Saint  Peter's,  with  his  daughter 


BAD  WOMEN  OF  THE  SIXTEENTH  CENTURY         137 

Lucrezia  upon  one  side  of  his  throne  and  his  daughter-in- 
law  Sancia  upon  the  other!  It  was  once  said  by  a  witty 
and  epigrammatic  Italian  that  Church  affairs  were  so  cor- 
rupt that  the  interests  of  morality  demanded  the  marriage 
rather  than  the  celibacy  of  the  clergy,  and  it  would  appear 
that  this  remark  has  a  certain  pertinency  anent  the  present 
situation.  To  illustrate  in  what  way  such  delinquency 
was  made  a  matter  of  jest,  the  following  story  is  related. 
At  the  time  of  the  French  invasion,  during  the  early  days 
of  Alexander's  pontificate,  Giulia  and  Girolama  Farnese, 
two  members  of  what  we  perhaps  may  call  the  pope's 
domestic  circle,  were  captured,  together  with  their  duenna, 
Adriana  di  Mila,  by  a  certain  Monseigneur  d'Allegre,  who 
was  in  the  suite  of  the  French  king.  He  came  upon  them 
near  Capodimonte  and  carried  them  off  to  Montefiascone, 
where  they  were  placed  in  confinement;  while  Alexander 
was  notified  of  the  occurrence  and  told  that  he  must  pay 
a  ransom,  the  sum  being  fixed  at  three  thousand  ducats. 
This  amount  was  paid  instanter,  and  the  captives  were  at 
once  released.  As  they  approached  Rome,  they  were  met 
by  Alexander,  who  was  attired  as  a  layman,  in  black  and 
gold  brocade,  with  his  dagger  at  his  belt.  When  Ludovico 
Sforza  heard  what  had  happened,  he  remarked,  with  a 
smile,  that  the  ransom  was  much  too  small,  and  that  if 
the  sum  of  fifty  thousand  ducats  had  been  demanded  it 
would  have  been  paid  with  equal  readiness,  as  these 
ladies  were  known  to  be  "the  very  eyes  and  heart"  of 
the  Holy  Father. 

It  was  in  the  midst  of  this  wanton  court  that  the  yellow- 
haired  Lucrezia  Borgia  grew  up  to  womanhood,  subject  to 
all  the  baleful  influences  which  were  in  such  profusion 
about  her.  Associating,  perforce,  with  the  dissolute  women 
of  her  father's  household,  it  would  be  too  much  to  expect 
to  find  her  a  woman  uncontaminated  by  the  ways  of  the 


1 38  WOMAN 

world.  There  are  many  things  to  show  that  she  had  her 
father's  love,  and  dark  stories  have  been  whispered  re- 
garding his  overfondness  for  her;  but,  be  that  as  it  may, 
it  is  certain  that  Alexander  never  neglected  an  opportunity 
to  give  his  daughter  worldly  advancement.  Before  his 
accession  to  the  pontificate,  Lucrezia  had  been  formally 
promised  to  a  couple  of  Spanish  grandees,  Don  Cherubino 
Juan  de  Centelles  and  Don  Gasparo  da  Procida,  who  was  a 
son  of  the  Count  of  Aversa;  but  once  in  the  Vatican,  with 
the  papal  power  in  his  hands,  Alexander  grew  more  ambi- 
tious, and  looked  for  another  alliance,  which  might  give  him 
an  increased  political  power.  Then  come  three  marriages 
in  which  the  daughter  Lucrezia  seems  but  a  puppet  in  her 
father's  hands.  First,  she  was  married  to  Giovanni  Sforza, 
Lord  of  Pesaro,  but  differences  of  opinion  regarding  poli- 
tics and  the  pope's  desire  for  a  still  more  powerful  son-in- 
law  led  him  to  sanction  Lucrezia's  divorce;  she  was  then 
promptly  married  to  Alphonso,  Prince  of  Biseglia,  a  natural 
son  of  the  King  of  Naples.  When  Alphonso's  father  was 
deposed,  the  Borgias  grew  tired  of  the  prince,  and  caused 
him  to  be  stabbed  one  fine  day  on  the  very  steps  of  Saint 
Peter's.  Then,  as  he  showed  some  disinclination  to  give  up 
the  ghost,  he  was  strangled  as  he  lay  in  his  bed  by  Michel- 
lozzo,  the  trusted  villain  of  the  Borgia  household.  The 
year  following,  Lucrezia  found  another  spouse,  and  this 
time  it  was  Alphonso,  the  Crown  Prince  of  Ferrara.  The 
marriage  was  celebrated  by  means  of  a  proxy,  in  Rome, 
and  then  the  daughter  of  the  pope,  with  cardinals  and  prel- 
ates in  her  train,  set  out  on  a  triumphal  journey  across  the 
country.  She  travelled  with  much  pomp  and  ceremony, 
as  was  befitting  one  of  her  position  in  the  world,  and  on 
her  arrival  in  Ferrara  she  was  welcomed  with  most  elabo- 
rate ceremonies.  This  marriage  had  been  forced  upon  the 
house  of  Este  through  political  necessity,  and  the  young 


BAD  WOMEN  OF  THE   SIXTEENTH  CENTURY         139 

duke-to-be,  Alphonso,  had  looked  forward  to  it  with  no 
pleasure,  hence  the  wedding  by  proxy;  but  Lucrezia,  by 
her  charm  and  tact,  soon  won  the  affection  of  her  husband 
and  drew  about  her  a  most  distinguished  company  of  poets 
and  scholars,  all  of  whom  were  enthusiastic  in  singing  her 
praise.  Ariosto  and  the  two  Strozzi  were  there,  likewise 
the  Cardinal  Bembo — who  became  a  somewhat  too  ardent 
admirer — and  Aldo  Manuzio,  and  other  men  of  distinction. 
Though  of  commonplace  origin,  Lucrezia  had  received  the 
very  best  education  possible,  and  she  conducted  herself 
with  such  propriety  and  showed  such  ready  wit  that  she 
was  the  real  centre  of  her  literary  coterie  and  gave  little, 
if  any,  outward  evidence  of  that  immoral  and  dissolute 
character  with  which  she  had  been  credited  in  her  earlier 
days.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  corrupt  influences 
which  surrounded  her  in  her  girlhood  early  destroyed  her 
purity  of  mind  and  led  her  to  dissolute  practices,  but  the 
legend  which  has  grown  up  about  her,  filled  with  fearful 
stories  of  poison  and  murder,  has  been  much  exaggerated. 
A  sensual  woman  she  was,  but  she  has  had  to  suffer  for 
many  crimes  which  were  committed  by  her  father  and  her 
brother,  Caesar  Borgia;  and  while  she  was  undoubtedly 
bad  in  many  ways,  the  time  has  passed  when  she  can 
justly  be  considered  as  a  fiend  incarnate. 

With  the  high  priest  of  all  Christendom  a  man  whose 
hands  were  stained  with  blood  and  whose  private  life  was 
marred  by  every  vice,  it  is  not  surprising  that  in  all  parts 
of  Italy  the  annals  of  this  time  are  tainted  and  polluted  in 
every  way.  Apparently,  all  restraint  was  thrown  aside, 
the  noblest  families  seemed  to  vie  with  each  other  in  crime 
and  debauchery,  and  the  pages  of  history  are  filled  with 
countless  awful  iniquities.  Among  the  Medici  alone,  there 
is  a  record  of  eleven  family  murders  within  the  short 
space  of  fifty  years,  and  seven  of  these  were  caused  by 


140  WOMAN 

illicit  love!  With  that  lack  of  logic  which  sometimes, 
under  similar  circumstances,  characterizes  the  actions  of 
men  to-day,  these  Italians  of  the  sixteenth  century  were 
not  willing  that  their  sisters  and  wives  should  debase  them- 
selves by  dishonorable  conduct,  no  matter  what  they  might 
do  themselves,  and  when  the  women  were  found  guilty 
there  was  no  punishment  too  severe  for  them.  Thus, 
Eleanora  di  Toledo  was  hacked  to  pieces  by  her  husband 
Pietro  de'  Medici,  and  his  sister  Isabella  was  strangled  by 
her  husband  the  Duke  di  Bracciano,  with  the  consent 
of  her  brothers. 

Isabella  dead,  the  duke  was  free  to  marry  Vittoria  Ac- 
coramboni, — in  no  way  his  equal  in  rank,  for  he  was  an 
Orsini, — who  was  a  woman  totally  devoid  of  all  moral  sense 
— if  she  is  to  be  judged  by  her  acts.  She  had  been  wedded 
to  Francesco  Peretti,  but,  tiring  of  him  and  seeing  the  op- 
portunity for  marriage  with  the  duke,  she  and  her  mother 
plotted  the  husband's  death,  and  it  was  her  handsome  and 
unscrupulous  brother  who  did  the  deed.  Despite  the  pope's 
opposition,  the  marriage  was  consummated,  but  the  guilty 
pair  were  not  allowed  to  remain  unmolested  for  a  long 
time,  as  Vittoria  was  soon  arrested  and  tried  for  complicity 
in  her  first  husband's  murder.  While  thus  under  arrest, 
she  lived  in  great  state  and  entertained  in  a  most  lavish  way, 
and  seemed  in  no  way  abashed  by  her  position.  Though 
finally  acquitted,  she  was  ordered  by  the  court  to  leave 
the  duke  and  lead  henceforth  a  life  which  might  be  above 
suspicion.  Through  the  brother  Marcello  and  his  constant 
companion,  who  is  continually  alluded  to  as  the  "  Greek 
enchantress,"  the  duke  and  his  wife  were  soon  brought 
together  again;  they  were  again  married,  that  the  suc- 
cession might  be  assured  to  Vittoria.  Indeed,  they  were 
twice  married  with  this  purpose  in  view,  but  they  were  so 
scorned  by  the  members  of  the  duke's  own  family  and 


BAD  WOMEN  OF  THE   SIXTEENTH  CENTURY        141 

so  harassed  by  the  pope's  officers,  who  were  ever  threat- 
ening prosecution,  that  their  life  was  one  of  constant  care 
and  anxiety.  When  the  duke  finally  died,  Vittoria  was 
left  his  sole  heir,  though  the  will  was  disputed  by  Ludovico 
Orsini,  the  next  in  succession.  Vittoria  was  spending  her 
first  few  months  of  widowhood  in  the  Orsini  palace  at 
Padua,  when  one  night  the  building  was  entered  by  forty 
men,  all  masked  in  black,  who  came  with  murderous  intent. 
Marcello,  the  infamous  brother,  escaped  their  clutches; 
another  brother,  much  younger  and  innocent  of  all  crime, 
was  shot  in  the  shoulder  and  driven  to  his  sister's  room, 
where  he  thought  to  find  shelter;  there  they  saw  Vittoria, 
calmly  kneeling  at  her  prie-dieu,  rosary  in  hand,  saying 
her  evening  prayers.  As  the  story  goes,  she  flung  herself 
before  a  crucifix,  but  all  in  vain,  for  she  was  stabbed  in 
the  heart,  one  assassin  turning  the  knife  to  make  death 
absolutely  certain.  She  died  saying,  it  is  reported:  "Jesus, 
I  forgive  you!"  The  next  day,  when  the  deed  was  noised 
abroad,  and  the  corpse  of  Vittoria  was  exposed  to  the  public 
gaze,  her  beauty,  even  in  death,  appealed  to  the  Paduans; 
and  they  at  once  rushed  to  Ludovico's  palace,  believing 
him  guilty  of  the  crime  or  responsible  for  it  in  some  way. 
The  place  was  besieged,  an  intercepted  letter  revealed  the 
fact  that  Ludovico  had  killed  Vittoria  with  his  own  hand, 
and  when  the  place  was  finally  reduced  and  surrender 
inevitable,  the  noble  assassin  coolly  gave  up  his  arms,  and 
then  began  to  trim  his  finger-nails  with  a  small  pair  of 
scissors,  which  he  took  from  his  pocket,  as  if  nothing  had 
happened.  It  is  evident  that,  having  accomplished  his 
revenge  upon  this  woman  who  had  sullied  the  name  of 
his  family,  he  was  now  content  to  take  whatever  fate 
might  come;  and  when  he  was  strangled  in  prison,  by 
order  of  the  republic  of  Venice,  he  went  to  his  fathers  like 
a  brave  man,  without  a  sigh  or  tremor. 


142  WOMAN 

The  story  of  Violante  di  Cordona  exhibits  the  same  dis- 
regard for  moral  law  and  the  same  calm  acceptance  of 
death.  As  the  Duchess  of  Palliano  and  wife  of  Don  Gio- 
vanni Caraffa,  this  beautiful  woman  was  much  courted  at 
her  palace  in  Naples,  where  she  lived  in  a  most  sumptuous 
way  with  crowds  of  courtiers  and  admirers  about  her. 
Through  the  jealousy  of  Diana  Brancaccio,  one  of  her 
ladies  in  waiting,  who  is  described  as  "hot-tempered  and 
tawny-haired,"  the  fair  duchess  was  doomed  to  a  sad  fate, 
and  all  on  account  of  the  handsome  Marcello  Capecce, 
who  had  been  her  most  ardent  suitor.  In  Mrs.  Linton's 
words,  "his  love  for  Violante  was  that  half  religious,  half 
sensual  passion  which  now  writes  sonnets  to  my  lady  as  a 
saint,  and  now  makes  love  to  her  as  a  courtesan."  But, 
whatever  his  mode  of  procedure,  Diana  loved  him,  while 
he  loved  only  Violante,  and  he  proved  to  be  a  masterful 
man.  The  duke  was  away  in  exile  on  account  of  a  dis- 
graceful carouse  which  had  ended  in  a  street  fight,  and 
Violante  was  spending  the  time,  practically  alone,  in  the 
quiet  little  town  of  Gallese,  which  is  halfway  between 
Orvieto  and  Rome.  In  this  solitude,  Violante  and  Mar- 
cello  were  finally  surprised  under  circumstances  which 
made  their  guilt  certain,  and  final  confession  was  obtained 
from  Marcello  after  he  had  been  arrested  and  subjected  to 
torture.  Thereupon  the  duke  sought  him  out  in  his 
prison,  and  stabbed  him  and  threw  his  body  into  the  prison 
sewer.  The  pope,  Paul  IV.,  was  the  duke's  uncle;  and 
upon  being  told  what  his  nephew  had  done,  he  showed  no 
surprise,  but  asked  significantly:  "And  what  have  they 
done  with  the  duchess?"  Murder,  under  such  circum- 
stances, was  considered  justifiable  throughout  all  Italy — 
and  it  must  be  confessed  that  the  modern  world  knows 
something  of  this  sentiment.  On  one  occasion,  a  Floren- 
tine court  made  this  reply  to  a  complaint  which  had  been 


BAD  WOMEN  OF  THE   SIXTEENTH  CENTURY         143 

lodged  against  a  faithless  wife:  Essendo  vero  quanta  scriveva 
facesse  quello  che  conveniva  a  cavaliere  di  honore!  [Things 
being  true  as  he  has  written  them,  he  is  allowed  to  do  that 
which  is  befitting  a  gentleman  of  honor!]  It  was  not  the 
pope  alone  who  proposed  punishment  for  Violante,  for 
the  duke  had  a  brother,  Cardinal  Alfonso  Caraffa,  who 
spoke  of  it  continually,  and  finally,  in  the  month  of 
August,  in  the  year  1559,  Palliano  sent  fifty  men,  with 
Violante's  brother,  the  Count  Aliffe,  at  their  head,  to  go  to 
her  at  Gallese  and  put  her  to  death.  A  couple  of  Francis- 
can monks  gave  her  what  little  comfort  there  was  to  be 
extracted  from  the  situation,  and  she  received  the  last 
sacrament,  though  stoutly  protesting  her  innocence  the 
while.  Then  the  bandage  was  put  over  her  eyes,  and  her 
brother  prepared  to  place  about  her  neck  the  cord  with 
which  she  was  to  be  strangled;  finding  it  too  short  for  the 
purpose,  he  went  into  another  room  to  get  one  of  more 
suitable  length.  Before  he  had  disappeared  through  the 
doorway,  Violante  had  pulled  the  bandage  from  her  eyes, 
and  was  asking,  in  the  most  matter-of-fact  way,  what  the 
trouble  was  and  why  he  did  not  complete  his  task.  With 
great  courtesy,  he  informed  his  sister  what  he  was  about, 
and  a  moment  later  returned,  tranquilly  readjusted  band- 
age and  cord,  and  then,  fitting  his  dagger  hilt  into  a  loop  at 
the  back,  he  slowly  twisted  it  about  until  the  soul  of  the 
duchess  had  fled.  Not  a  harsh  or  hasty  word  was  spoken, 
there  was  no  hurry  and  no  confusion,  all  was  done  quietly 
and  in  order.  The  marvel  is  that  these  highly  emotional 
people,  who  are  usually  so  sensitive  to  pain,  could  have 
shown  such  stoical  indifference  to  their  fate. 

The  case  of  Beatrice  Cenci  is  one  of  the  best  known  in 
all  this  category  of  crime,  and  here  again  is  shown  that 
sublime  fortitude  which  cannot  fail  to  excite  our  sympathy, 
to  some  degree  at  least.  Francesco  Cenci  was  a  wealthy 


144  WOMAN 

nobleman  of  such  profligate  habits  and  such  evil  ways  that 
he  had  twice  been  threatened  with  imprisonment  for  his 
crimes.  Seven  children  he  had  by  his  first  marriage,  and 
at  his  wife's  death  he  married  Lucrezia  Petroni,  by  whom 
he  had  no  children.  Francesco  had  no  love  for  his  sons 
and  daughters,  and  treated  them  with  such  uniform  cruelty 
that  he  soon  drove  from  their  hearts  any  filial  affection 
they  may  have  felt  for  him.  His  conduct  grew  so  out- 
rageous that  finally,  in  desperation,  his  family  appealed  to 
the  pope  for  relief,  begging  that  Cenci  be  put  to  death,  so 
that  they  might  live  in  peace;  but  the  pontiff,  who  had 
already  profited  by  Cenci's  wealth  and  saw  further  need 
for  his  gold,  refused  to  comply  with  so  unusual  a  request, 
and  made  matters  so  much  the  worse  by  allowing  the 
father  to  find  out  what  a  desperate  course  the  children  had 
adopted.  One  of  the  two  daughters  was  finally  married, 
and  Cenci  was  compelled  by  the  pope  to  give  her  a  suit- 
able dot;  but  Beatrice  still  remained  at  home,  and  the 
father  kept  her  in  virtual  imprisonment  that  she  might 
not  escape  him  and  cause  him  expense  as  the  other  girl 
had  done.  The  indignities  heaped  upon  her  and  upon  the 
wife  and  sons  were  such  that  they  all  revolted  at  last  and 
plotted  to  take  his  life.  Cardinal  Guerra,  a  young  prel- 
ate, who,  it  seems,  was  in  the  habit  of  visiting  the  house 
in  Cenci's  absence,  and  who  may  have  been  in  love  with 
Beatrice,  was  taken  into  the  secret  and  all  the  details  were 
arranged.  Two  old  servants,  who  had  no  love  for  their 
harsh  master,  were  prevailed  upon  to  do  the  deed,  and 
were  secretly  admitted  by  Beatrice  to  the  castle  known  as 
the  Rock  of  Petrella,  where  Cenci  had  taken  his  family 
for  the  summer  months — all  this  was  in  the  year  1598. 
The  father's  wine  had  been  drugged  so  that  he  fell  into  a 
deep  sleep,  and  again  it  was  Beatrice  who  took  the  assas- 
sins into  the  room  where  he  lay.  At  first  they  held  back, 


BAD  WOMEN  OF  THE   SIXTEENTH  CENTURY         145 

saying  that  they  could  not  kill  a  man  in  his  slumber;  but 
Beatrice  would  not  allow  them  to  abandon  the  task,  so 
great  was  her  power  over  them. 

Beatrice  has  shown  all  along  a  surprising  firmness  of 
character,  and  a  more  detailed  description  of  her  appear- 
ance cannot  fail  to  be  of  interest.  Leigh  Hunt  gives  the 
following  pen  portrait,  which  he  ascribes  to  some  Roman 
manuscript:  "Beatrice  was  of  a  make  rather  large  than 
small.  Her  complexion  was  fair.  She  had  two  dimples 
in  her  cheeks,  which  added  to  the  beauty  of  her  counte- 
nance, especially  when  she  smiled,  and  gave  it  a  grace 
that  enchanted  all  who  saw  her.  Her  hair  was  like 
threads  of  gold;  and  because  it  was  very  long,  she  used 
to  fasten  it  up;  but  when  she  let  it  flow  freely,  the  wavy 
splendor  of  it  was  astonishing.  She  had  pleasing  blue 
eyes,  of  a  sprightliness  mixed  with  dignity,  and,  in  addi- 
tion to  all  these  graces,  her  conversation  had  a  spirit  in 
it  and  a  sparkling  polish  which  made  every  one  in  love 
with  her." 

Such  was  the  girl  who  overcame  the  compassion  of  these 
hirelings  by  recounting  to  them  again  the  story  of  their 
own  wrongs  and  those  of  the  family;  and  when  they  still 
refused,  she  said:  "If  you  are  afraid  to  put  to  death  a  man 
in  his  sleep,  I  myself  will  kill  my  father;  but  your  own 
lives  shall  not  have  long  to  run."  So,  in  they  went,  and 
the  deed  was  done  in  a  terrible  manner:  a  long,  pointed 
nail  was  thrust  through  one  of  the  eyes  and  into  the  brain 
and  then  withdrawn,  and  the  body  was  tossed  from  an 
upper  balcony  into  the  branches  of  an  elder  tree  below, 
that  it  might  seem  that  he  had  fallen  while  walking  about 
in  the  night.  The  murderers  were  given  the  reward 
agreed  upon,  and,  in  addition,  Beatrice  bestowed  upon  the 
one  who  had  been  least  reluctant  a  mantle  laced  with  gold, 
which  had  formerly  belonged  to  her  father.  The  next  day, 


146  WOMAN 

when  Francesco  Cenci's  body  was  discovered,  there  was 
pretence  of  great  grief  in  the  household,  and  the  dead  man 
was  given  most  elaborate  burial.  After  a  short  time,  the 
family  went  back  to  Rome  and  lived  there  in  tranquillity, 
until  they  were  startled  one  day  by  accusations  which 
charged  them  with  the  death  of  the  father.  Indignant 
denials  were  made  by  all,  and  especially  by  Beatrice,  but 
in  vain;  they  were  submitted  to  torture,  and  the  shameful 
truth  was  finally  confessed.  The  pope  at  first  ordered 
them  to  be  beheaded;  but  so  great  was  the  interest  taken 
in  the  case  by  cardinals  and  members  of  the  nobility,  that 
a  respite  of  twenty-five  days  was  granted  in  which  to 
prepare  a  defence.  The  ablest  advocates  in  Rome  inter- 
ested themselves  in  the  matter,  and,  when  the  case  was 
called,  the  pope  listened  to  the  arguments  for  four  hours. 
The  plan  of  defence  was  to  compare  the  wrongs  of  the 
father  with  those  of  the  children,  and  to  see  which  had 
suffered  the  more.  The  larger  share  of  responsibility  was 
put  upon  Beatrice;  but  she,  it  appeared,  had  been  the  one 
most  sinned  against,  and  certain  unmentionable  villainies  in 
her  father's  conduct,  which  were  darkly  hinted  at,  aroused 
the  pity  of  the  Holy  Father  to  such  an  extent  that  he  gave 
them  all  comparative  liberty,  with  the  hope  of  ultimate 
acquittal.  At  this  juncture  of  affairs,  a  certain  nobleman, 
Paolo  Santa  Croce,  killed  his  mother  as  the  result  of  a 
family  quarrel;  and  the  pope,  newly  angered  against  the 
Cenci  family  because  he  considered  it  to  have  set  the  ex- 
ample for  this  parricidal  mania,  ordered  them  all  to  be 
executed  according  to  the  terms  of  the  original  judgment, 
with  the  exception  of  the  youngest  son,  Bernardo,  who 
was  given  a  free  pardon.  The  sentence  was  executed  on 
the  following  day,  Saturday,  May  n,  1599,  on  the  bridge 
of  Saint  Angelo,  the  three  victims  being  Lucrezia  the 
wife,  Beatrice,  and  the  older  brother,  Giacomo,  all  the 


BAD  WOMEN  OF  THE   SIXTEENTH  CENTURY         147 

other  sons  excepting  Bernardo  being  dead  at  this  time. 
Part  of  the  Cenci  estates  were  conveyed  to  one  of  the 
pope's  nephews,  and  became  the  Villa  Borghese,  wherein 
may  still  be  seen  portraits  of  Lucrezia  Petroni  and  Beatrice 
Cenci,  the  latter  by  the  well-known  Guido  Reni.  It  is 
generally  believed  that  this  portrait  was  painted  while 
Beatrice  was  in  prison,  and  Shelley  has  given  the  following 
appreciative  description  of  it  in  the  preface  to  his  tragedy, 
The  Cenci,  which  is  based  upon  this  story,  and  which  he 
wrote  in  Rome  in  1819: 

"  There  is  a  fixed  and  pale  composure  upon  the  features, 
she  seems  sad  and  stricken  down  in  spirit,  yet  the  despair 
thus  expressed  is  lightened  by  the  patience  of  gentleness. 
Her  head  is  bound  with  folds  of  white  drapery,  from  which 
the  yellow  strings  of  her  golden  hair  escape  and  fall  about 
her  neck.  The  moulding  of  her  face  is  exquisitely  delicate, 
the  eyebrows  are  distinct  and  arched,  the  lips  have  that 
permanent  meaning  of  imagination  and  sensibility  which 
suffering  has  not  repressed  and  which  it  seems  as  if  death 
scarcely  could  extinguish.  Her  forehead  is  large  and  clear, 
her  eyes,  which  we  are  told  were  remarkable  for  their 
vivacity,  are  swollen  with  weeping  and  lustreless,  but 
beautifully  tender  and  serene.  In  the  whole  mien  there 
are  simplicity  and  dignity  which,  united  with  her  exquisite 
loveliness  and  deep  sorrow,  are  inexpressibly  pathetic. 
Beatrice  Cenci  appears  to  have  been  one  of  those  rare 
persons  in  whom  energy  and  gentleness  dwell  together 
without  destroying  one  another;  her  nature  was  simple 
and  profound.  The  crimes  and  miseries  in  which  she  was 
an  actor  and  a  sufferer  are  as  the  mask  and  the  mantle  in 
which  circumstances  clothed  her  for  her  impersonation 
in  the  scene  of  the  world." 

To-day,  the  story  is  still  an  oft-told  tale  in  Rome,  the 
portrait  of  la  Cenci  is  known  by  all,  and  all  feel  pity  for 


148  WOMAN 

her  sad  fate.  However  great  her  crime  may  have  been, 
it  should  be  taken  into  account  that  it  was  only  after  "long 
and  vain  attempts  to  escape  from  what  she  considered  a 
perpetual  contamination,  both  of  mind  and  body," — as 
Shelley  puts  it, — that  she  plotted  the  murder  for  which 
she  was  beheaded;  so  great  was  the  provocation,  that  all 
can  pity  if  pardon  be  withheld. 

The  corrupt  condition  of  life  in  the  convents  throughout 
Italy  at  this  time  is  not  a  matter  of  mere  conjecture,  for 
the  facts  are  known  in  many  cases  and  are  of  such  a 
nature  as  almost  to  pass  belief.  One  reason  for  this  state 
of  affairs  is  to  be  found  in  the  character  of  the  women  who 
composed  these  conventual  orders.  It  is  natural  to  think 
of  them  as  holy  maidens  of  deep  religious  instincts,  who 
had  taken  the  veil  to  satisfy  some  spiritual  necessity  of 
their  being;  unfortunately,  the  picture  is  untrue.  In  many 
of  these  convents,  and  particularly  in  those  where  vice 
was  known  to  flourish,  the  membership  was  largely  re- 
cruited from  the  ranks  of  the  nobility,  it  being  the  custom 
to  send  unmarried,  unmarriageable,  and  unmanageable 
daughters  to  the  shelter  of  a  cloister,  simply  to  get  them 
out  of  the  way.  Women  who  had  transgressed,  to  their 
own  disgrace,  the  commonly  accepted  social  laws,  whether 
married  or  unmarried,  found  ready  protection  here;  a  pro- 
fessed nun  was  under  the  care  of  the  Church  and  had 
nothing  to  fear  from  the  state,  and  this  fact  was  not  un- 
known. To  show  how  clearly  this  condition  was  under- 
stood at  the  time,  it  is  interesting  to  note  that  when  the 
scandal  concerning  the  convent  of  Santa  Chiara  was  first 
made  public,  an  easy-going  priest,  who  had  acted  as  a  go- 
between  in  many  of  these  intrigues  of  the  cloister,  said 
that  he  could  not  see  why  people  in  general  should  create 
so  much  confusion  about  it,  as  these  were  only  "affairs  of 
the  gentlefolk  [cosi  di  gentilhuomini]  "  ! 


BAD  WOMEN  OF  THE   SIXTEENTH  CENTURY         149 

The  public  disgrace  of  Santa  Chiara  was  due  to  the  evil 
ways  of  one  of  its  members,  Sister  Umilia,  a  woman  who 
had  had  some  experience  in  worldly  things  before  she 
turned  her  back  upon  them.  Her  name  was  Lucrezia 
Malpigli,  and,  as  a  young  girl,  she  had  loved  and  desired 
to  marry  Massimiliano  Arnolfini;  but  her  parents  objected, 
and  she  was  affianced  to  the  three  Buonvisi  brothers  in 
consecutive  order  before  she  finally  found  a  husband,  the 
two  older  brothers  dying  each  time  before  the  wedding 
ceremony.  After  her  marriage,  to  her  misfortune,  she 
met,  at  Lucca,  Arnolfini,  the  man  whom  she  had  loved  as 
a  girl  at  Ferrara,  and  it  soon  appeared  that  the  old  love 
was  not  dead.  Within  a  short  time  her  husband  was 
stabbed,  by  Arnolfmi's  bravo,  as  he  was  returning  with 
her  from  the  church,  and  rumors  were  at  once  afloat 
implicating  her  in  the  murder.  Guilty  or  not,  she  was 
frightened,  and  before  four  days  had  passed  she  had  taken 
refuge  in  the  convent  of  Santa  Chiara.  Safe  from  all 
pursuit,  she  endowed  the  convent  most  liberally,  cut  her 
hair,  and  became  the  Sister  Umilia,  who  was  described  as 
a  "young  woman,  tall  and  pale,  dressed  in  a  nun's  habit, 
with  a  crown  upon  her  head."  For  thirteen  years  little 
was  heard  of  her,  and  then  a  telltale  rope  ladder  hanging 
from  the  convent  wall  led  to  disclosures  of  a  most  revolting 
nature.  It  was  discovered  that  the  supposedly  pious  nuns 
were  profligates,  the  convent  was  a  veritable  den  of  in- 
iquity, and  Sister  Umilia  was  found  to  have  several  lovers 
who  were  disputing  her  favors.  Poisons  had  been  sent  to 
her  by  a  young  nobleman,  Tommaso  Samminiati,  that  she 
might  dispose  of  a  certain  Sister  Calidonia,  who  had  be- 
come repentant  and  was  threatening  to  reveal  the  secrets 
of  their  life;  and  the  poisons  were  so  deadly,  so  the  letter 
ran,  that  when  once  Calidonia  had  swallowed  a  certain 
white  powder,  "if  the  devil  does  not  help  her,  she  will 


150  WOMAN 

pass  from  this  life  in  half  a  night's  time,  and  without  the 
slightest  sign  of  violence."  Penalties  were  inflicted  upon 
all  of  these  offending  nuns,  and  Umilia  was  imprisoned  for 
nine  years  before  she  was  restored  to  liberty  and  allowed 
to  wear  again  the  convent  dress. 

However  black  this  picture  may  appear,  it  is  passing 
fair  when  compared  with  the  career  of  the  notorious  Lady 
of  Monza.  Virginia  Maria  de  Leyva  was  a  lady  of  noble 
birth  who  had  entered  the  convent  of  Santa  Margherita,  at 
Monza,  where  she  had  taken  the  veil,  being  induced  to 
take  this  step  because  her  cousin  had  in  some  way  de- 
prived her  of  her  inheritance,  and  without  a  dowry  she 
had  not  found  marriage  easy.  In  the  convent,  because 
she  was  well  born  and  well  connected,  she  became  a 
person  of  much  influence  and  received  many  callers.  Ad- 
joining the  convent  was  the  residence  of  young  Gianpaolo 
Osio,  a  reckless,  amorous  dare-devil,  who  was  beau  comme 
le  jour,  as  the  French  fairy  tales  say.  So  much  of  the 
story  having  been  told,  it  is  not  difficult  to  guess  what  is  to 
come.  It  was  a  case  of  love  at  first  sight,  and  Osio  was 
aided  in  his  conquest  by  a  number  of  the  older  and  more 
corrupt  nuns  and  several  other  people  about  the  convent, 
not  excepting  the  father  confessor,  who  wrote  some  of 
Osio's  love  letters  and  seemed  to  smile  upon  the  affair 
and  wish  it  ali  success.  Virginia  yielded,  as  might  have 
been  expected  under  such  circumstances;  and  the  amour 
ran  along  smoothly  for  several  years,  until  Virginia  and 
Osio,  with  the  help  of  four  obliging  nuns,  felt  constrained 
to  take  the  life  of  a  disgruntled  serving-maid  who  was 
threatening  to  reveal  all  to  Monsignor  Barca,the  inspector 
of  the  convent,  at  the  time  of  his  approaching  visit.  When 
once  the  deed  was  done,  the  corpse  was  dismembered  for 
purposes  of  better  concealment;  but  suspicion  was  aroused 
by  this  sudden  disappearance  of  the  maid,  and  Osio  took 


BAD  WOMEN  OF  THE   SIXTEENTH  CENTURY        151 

Virginia  from  the  place,  to  shield  her  as  much  as  possible. 
Next,  he  offered  to  help  her  two  most  active  accomplices, 
Ottavia  and  Benedetta,  to  escape  and  seek  refuge  in  a 
Bergamasque  convent,  where  they  would  be  safe;  but  on 
the  way  thither  he  treacherously  assaulted  them  and  left 
them  both  for  dead.  One  crime  rarely  covers  up  another, 
however;  the  facts  soon  came  to  light,  and  all  concerned 
were  fitly  punished.  Virginia  was  sentenced  to  perpetual 
imprisonment  in  the  convent  of  Santa  Valeria,  at  Milan; 
and  there  she  remained  for  many  years,  in  a  dark  cell, 
until  she  was  finally  given  better  quarters  through  the 
interposition  of  Cardinal  Borromeo,  who  had  been  im- 
pressed by  her  growing  reputation  for  sanctity.  How  old 
she  grew  to  be,  deponent  saith  not,  but  she  must  have 
lived  for  many  years,  as  the  following  description  will 
attest:  "  a  bent  old  woman,  tall  of  stature,  dried  and  flesh- 
less,  but  venerable  in  her  aspect,  whom  no  one  could  believe 
to  have  been  once  a  charming  and  immodest  beauty." 

What  an  awful  century  it  was!  Vice  and  corruption  in 
all  quarters,  the  pope  an  acknowledged  sinner,  the  nobility 
tainted,  and  even  the  holy  daughters  of  the  Church  vir- 
gins in  name  only!  And  this  was  the  century  in  which 
the  most  beautiful  Madonnas  were  painted! 


Brighter  $>tot  of  tfje  gixtttnty 
'  fflenturg 


IX 


THE   BRIGHTER  SIDE   OF   THE   SIXTEENTH 
CENTURY 

THE  tales  of  crime  and  sensuality  which  fill  the  annals 
of  the  sixteenth  century  are  so  repulsive  that  it  is  with  a 
feeling  of  relief  that  we  turn  our  attention  to  other  pictures 
of  the  same  time  which  are  altogether  pleasing  in  their 
outlines.  The  court  of  the  Duke  of  Urbino  is  the  most 
conspicuous  example  of  this  better  side  of  life,  and  his 
talented  and  accomplished  wife,  Elizabetta  Gonzaga,  a 
daughter  of  the  reigning  house  of  Mantua,  presided  over 
a  literary  salon  which  was  thronged  with  all  the  wit  and 
wisdom  of  the  land.  Urbino  was  but  a  rocky,  desolate 
bit  of  mountainous  country,  not  more  than  forty  miles 
square,  in  the  Marches  of  Ancona,  on  a  spur  of  the  Tuscan 
Apennines,  about  twenty  miles  from  the  Adriatic  and  not 
far  from  historic  Rimini,  but  here  was  a  most  splendid 
principality  with  a  glittering  court.  Federigo,  Count  of 
Montefeltro,  had  been  created  Duke  of  Urbino  by  Pope 
Sixtus  IV.  in  1474,  and  he  it  was  who  laid  the  founda- 
tions for  that  prosperous  state  which  at  his  death  passed 
into  the  hands  of  his  son  Guidobaldo,  the  husband  of 
Elizabetta.  Federigo's  immense  wealth  was  not  gained 
by  burdening  his  subjects  with  heavy  taxes,  but  rather 
from  the  money  which  he  was  able  to  earn  as  a  military 
leader,  for  he  was  a  noble  soldier  of  fortune.  Vespasiano 

155 


1 56  WOMAN 

tells  us,  with  regard  to  his  military  science,  that  he  was 
excelled  by  no  general  of  his  time,  and  his  good  faith 
was  never  questioned.  He  was  also  a  man  of  singularly 
religious  nature,  and  no  morning  passed  without  his  hear- 
ing mass  upon  his  knees.  In  his  lifetime  he  served  no 
less  than  three  pontiffs,  two  kings  of  Naples,  and  two 
dukes  of  Milan;  the  republic  of  Florence  and  several  Italian 
leagues  had  appointed  him  their  general  in  the  field,  and  in 
this  long  life  of  warfare  the  sums  of  money  paid  him  for 
his  services  were  immense.  Dennistoun  relates  that  in 
the  year  1453  "his  war-pay  from  Alfonso  of  Naples  ex- 
ceeded eight  thousand  ducats  a  month,  and  for  many  years 
he  had  from  him  and  his  son  an  annual  peace-pension  of  six 
thousand  ducats  in  the  name  of  past  services.  At  the  close 
of  his  life,  when  general  of  the  Italian  league,  he  drew,  in 
war,  one  hundred  and  sixty-five  thousand  ducats  of  annual 
stipend,  forty-five  thousand  being  his  own  share."  With 
this  wealth  he  caused  his  desert-like  domain  to  rejoice  and 
blossom  as  the  rose.  His  magnificent  fortified  palace  was 
most  elaborately  decorated  with  rare  marbles  and  priceless 
carvings,  frescos,  panel  pictures,  tapestries,  tarsia  work, 
stucco  reliefs,  and  works  of  art  of  all  kinds;  here,  accord- 
ing to  his  biographer  Muzio,  he  maintained  a  suite  so 
numerous  and  distinguished  as  to  rival  that  of  any  royal 
household.  So  famed  indeed  did  Urbino  become,  that  all 
the  chivalry  of  Italy  crowded  the  palace  to  learn  manners 
and  the  art  of  war  from  its  courteous  duke. 

Further  details  are  furnished  by  Vespasiano,  who  says 
that  "his  household,  which  consisted  of  five  hundred 
mouths  entertained  at  his  own  cost,  was  governed  less 
like  a  company  of  soldiers  than  a  strict  religious  com- 
munity. There  was  no  gaming  or  swearing,  but  the 
men  conversed  with  the  utmost  sobriety."  It  is  interest- 
ing to  know  that  among  his  court  officers  were  included 


BRIGHTER  SIDE  OF  THE  SIXTEENTH  CENTURY       157 

forty-five  counts  of  the  duchy  and  of  other  states,  seven- 
teen gentlemen,  five  secretaries,  four  teachers  of  grammar, 
logic,  and  philosophy,  fourteen  clerks  in  public  offices,  five 
architects  and  engineers,  five  readers  during  meals,  and 
four  transcribers  of  manuscripts.  Federigo  had  ever  shown 
himself  a  liberal  and  enlightened  monarch,  and  he  had  early 
acquired  a  solid  culture  which  enabled  him,  when  he  grew 
to  manhood,  to  bestow  his  patronage  in  an  intelligent  man- 
ner. Scholars  and  artists  were  clustered  about  him  in  great 
numbers;  Urbino  was  widely  known  as  the  Italian  Athens, 
and  as  one  of  the  foremost  centres  of  art  and  literature 
in  all  Europe,  when  Elizabetta  Gonzaga  was  wedded  to 
Guidobaldo  and  became  the  chatelaine  of  the  palace.  The 
young  duke  and  his  wife  began  their  life  together  under 
the  most  auspicious  circumstances.  From  what  his  tutor, 
Odasio  of  Padua,  says  about  his  boyhood,  it  is  evident 
that  if  he  were  alive  to-day  he  could  easily  obtain  one  of 
the  Cecil  Rhodes  Oxford  fellowships,  for  we  are  told  that 
he  cared  only  for  study  and  for  manly  sports,  and  that  he 
was  of  an  upright  character.  His  memory  was  so  reten- 
tive that  he  could  repeat  whole  books,  word  for  word, 
after  many  years,  and  in  more  ways  than  one  he  had  dis- 
played a  wonderful  precocity.  Elizabetta,  too,  had  been 
given  a  most  liberal  and  careful  education,  and  her  ready 
intelligence  was  equalled  only  by  her  careful  tact  and  her 
perfect  savoir  faire.  Indeed,  on  account  of  her  many 
attainments,  personal  charm,  and  her  refining  influence, 
which  was  far-reaching,  she  may  be  likened  to  that  cele- 
brated Frenchwoman  Catherine  de  Vivonne,  Madame  de 
Rambouillet,  whose  hotel  was,  a  century  later,  such  a 
rendezvous  for  the  gentler  spirits  of  France  in  that  hurly- 
burly  period  which  followed  the  religious  wars.  Endowed 
as  she  was  by  nature,  it  was  by  most  fortuitous  circum- 
stance that  she  was  called  to  preside  over  the  court  of 


1 58  WOMAN 

Urbino,  for  at  that  time  there  was  no  other  woman  in 
Italy  who  was  so  fitted  for  such  a  distinguished  position. 
It  was  in  the  last  decade  of  the  quattrocento  that  Eliza- 
betta  was  married,  and  she  found  clustered  about  her 
from  the  very  start  illustrious  artists  and  men  of  letters. 
Melozzo  da  Forli  and  Giovanni  Santi — Raphael's  father — 
were  there,  and  there  the  early  youth  of  Raphael  was 
spent;  Jan  van  Eyck  and  Justus  of  Ghent,  the  great 
Flemish  painters,  were  also  there,  and  the  palace  was 
adorned  with  many  monuments  to  their  skill.  Here  it 
was  that  Piero  della  Francesca  had  written  his  celebrated 
work  on  the  science  of  perspective,  Francesco  di  Giorgio 
his  Trattato  d'Architettura,  and  Giovanni  Santi  his  poet- 
ical account  of  the  artists  of  his  time;  and  here  it  was  in 
the  first  days  of  the  sixteenth  century  that  Elizabetta  was 
the  centre  of  a  group  which  was  all  sweetness  and  light 
when  compared  with  the  prevailing  habits  of  life. 

In  this  circle  were  to  be  found,  among  others,  Bernardo 
Bibbiena,  the  patron  of  Berni,  of  whom  Raphael  has  left  us 
a  portrait  which  is  now  in  the  Pitti  Palace;  Giuliano  de' 
Medici,  whose  marble  statue  by  Michael  Angelo  may  still  be 
seen  in  San  Lorenzo  at  Florence;  Cardinal  Pietro  Bembo, 
who  had  in  his  youth  fallen  a  victim  to  the  charms  of 
Lucrezia  Borgia  when  she  first  went  to  Ferrara;  Emilia 
Pia,  the  wife  of  Antonio  da  Montefeltro,  who  is  described 
as  "a  lady  of  so  lively  wit  and  judgment,  that  she  seems 
to  govern  the  whole  company";  and  last,  but  far  from 
least,  Baldassare  Castiglione,  that  model  courtier  and  fine 
wit,  who  has  left  a  picture  of  Urbino  in  his  celebrated 
book  //  Cortegiano,  which  was  long  known  in  Italy  as 
//  Libra  d'Oro.  This  volume  is  an  elaborate  discussion  of 
the  question,  What  constitutes  a  perfect  courtier;  and  it  was 
for  a  long  time  a  most  comprehensive  and  final  compen- 
dium, handbook,  and  guide  for  all  who  wished  to  perfect 


BRIGHTER  SIDE  OF  THE  SIXTEENTH  CENTURY       I  59 

themselves  in  courtly  grace.  What  interests  us  most 
in  the  book,  however,  is  the  fact  that  Castiglione  has  put 
this  discussion  of  polite  manners  into  the  form  of  a  con- 
versation which  he  supposes  to  have  taken  place  in  the 
drawing  room  of  the  Countess  of  Urbino,  that  being  the 
most  likely  spot  in  all  Europe  for  such  a  discussion  at  such 
a  time,  for  Guidobaldo's  court  was  "  confessedly  the  purest 
and  most  elevated  in  all  Italy."  Castiglione  was  one  of 
Elizabetta's  most  ardent  admirers,  and  he  says  of  her  that 
no  one  "approached  but  was  immediately  affected  with 
secret  pleasure,  and  it  seemed  as  if  her  presence  had  some 
powerful  majesty,  for  surely  never  were  stricter  ties  of 
love  and  cordial  friendship  between  brothers  than  with  us." 
Count  Guidobaldo  early  became  a  cripple  and  an  invalid, 
too  ardent  devotion  to  books  and  to  athletic  pursuits  at  the 
same  time  having  undermined  a  constitution  that  was 
never  strong;  therefore,  it  was  his  custom  to  retire  for  the 
night  at  an  early  hour;  but  it  was  in  the  evening  that 
the  countess  held  court,  and  then  were  gathered  together, 
for  many  years,  all  the  brightest  minds  of  Italy,  who  felt 
the  charm  of  her  presence  and  the  value  of  her  stimulating 
personality.  Urbino  was  a  school  of  good  manners,  as 
Naples  had  been  in  the  days  of  Queen  Joanna;  it  was 
the  first  great  literary  salon  in  modern  history,  and,  pre- 
sided over  by  a  woman  who  was  a  veritable  grande  dame 
de  societe,  its  influence  was  by  no  means  confined  to  a 
narrow  sphere.  Even  in  far-away  England,  Urbino  was 
known  and  appreciated;  and  Henry  VII.,  to  show  his 
esteem  for  its  ruler,  conferred  the  Order  of  the  Garter 
upon  Guidobaldo.  In  acknowledgment  of  this  favor,  Cas- 
tiglione was  sent  to  the  English  court  to  bear  the  thanks  of 
his  lord,  and  with  him  he  took  as  a  present  Raphael's 
Saint  George  and  the  Dragon,  which,  by  the  way,  was 
taken  from  England  when  Cromwell  ordered  the  sale  of 


160  WOMAN 

the  art  treasures  of  Charles  I.,  and  may  now  be  seen  at  the 
Louvre.  The  old  Count  Federigo  had  made  all  this  refined 
magnificence  possible,  it  is  true,  and  Guidobaldo  had  been 
in  every  way  a  worthy  successor  to  his  father,  though 
lacking  his  rugged  strength;  but  to  Guidobaldo's  wife,  the 
gracious  and  wise  Elizabetta  Gonzaga,  belongs  the  credit 
for  having  kept  Urbino  up  to  a  high  standard — an  achieve- 
ment of  which  few,  if  any,  other  women  of  her  time  were 
capable.  There  was  needed  a  person  who  combined 
worldly  knowledge  with  education  and  a  sane,  decent 
philosophy  of  life,  and  Guidobaldo's  wife  was  that  person. 
Veronica  Gambara  deserves  a  place  among  the  good  and 
illustrious  women  of  this  time;  and  though  she  occupied  a 
position  far  less  conspicuous  than  that  of  the  Countess 
of  Urbino,  she  was  still  a  person  of  reputation  and  impor- 
tance. Born  in  the  year  1485,  her  "fortunate  parents," 
as  Zamboni  calls  them,  gave  her  a  most  careful  and 
thorough  education,  and  as  a  young  woman  she  was  noted 
for  her  poetic  gifts,  which  were  of  a  high  order.  At  the 
age  of  twenty-five  she  married  Ghiberto,  Count  of  Cor- 
reggio,  and  their  union  was  one  of  true  sympathy  and  deep 
attachment,  such  as  was  rarely  seen  then,  when  the 
manage  de  convenance  was  more  in  vogue,  perhaps,  than 
it  is  in  these  later  days  in  Paris.  Nine  happy  years  they 
spent  together,  and  two  sons  were  born  to  them;  then 
Ghiberto  died,  leaving  Veronica  in  such  grief  that  she  fell  ill 
and  hovered  a  long  time  between  life  and  death.  In  one 
of  her  poems  she  relates  that  it  was  the  fear  that  she 
might  not  meet  her  beloved  husband  in  Paradise  which 
prevented  her  from  dying  with  him.  She  had  work  to  do, 
however,  as  her  husband,  in  sign  of  his  great  confidence 
in  her,  had  made  her  his  sole  executrix  and  given  into  her 
care  the  government  of  Correggio.  Veronica  had  always 
possessed  a  lively  imagination,  and  now  in  her  grief  her 


BRIGHTER  SIDE  OF  THE  SIXTEENTH  CENTURY       l6l 

sorrow  was  shown  to  the  world  in  a  most  extravagant 
way.  She  wore  the  heaviest  and  blackest  mourning 
obtainable;  her  apartments,  furnished  henceforth  with  the 
bare  necessities  of  life,  were  tapestried  in  black;  and  black 
was  the  hue  of  her  livery,  her  carriages,  and  her  horses. 
To  further  proclaim  to  all  the  world  her  love  for  the 
departed,  she  had  painted  over  the  door  of  her  chamber 
the  couplet  which  Virgil  has  ascribed  to  Dido: 

"  Ille  meos,  primus  qul  me  sibi  junxlt,  amores 
Abstulit:  ille  habeat  secum  servetque  sepulchre  !" 

[He  who  first  linked  me  to  himself  hath  borne  away  my 
affection:  may  he  possess  it  still  and  retain  it  in  his  grave!] 
As  to  her  personal  appearance,  Veronica  was  not  beau- 
tiful in  face,  as  her  features  were  irregular;  but  it  was  said 
of  her  in  her  early  womanhood  that  if  her  face  had  equalled 
her  form  she  would  have  been  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
women  of  her  time.  She  was  high-strung,  enthusiastic, 
and  passionate,  but  she  possessed  a  character  and  an  in- 
telligence which  enabled  her  to  hold  herself  in  check;  she 
was  a  most  devoted  wife  and  entirely  domestic  in  her  dis- 
position. Her  poetry  is  addressed  chiefly  to  her  husband, 
and  she  never  tires  of  extolling  his  many  virtues.  His 
eyes,  in  particular,  seem  to  have  been  especially  beautiful 
in  her  sight,  as  she  devotes  no  less  than  six  sonnets  and  a 
madrigal  to  a -description  of  their  charms,  calling  them 
occhi  stellante,  and  telling  of  their  power  in  most  fervid 
terms.  We  cannot,  however,  consider  her  as  a  woman 
who  was  wholly  concerned  with  her  own  small  affairs,  as 
her  letters  show  her  to  have  been  in  communication  with 
the  most  illustrious  literary  men  and  women  of  all  Italy,  in- 
cluding Ariosto,  Bembo,  Sannazzaro,  and  Vittoria  Colonna. 
Though  her  literary  baggage  was  not  extensive,  the  few 
sonnets  she  has  left  have  a  strength,  simplicity,  and 


1 62  WOMAN 

sincerity  which  were  rare  among  the  poets  of  her  time.  Her 
best  poem  was  one  addressed  to  the  rival  sovereigns,  the 
Emperor  Charles  V.,  and  the  brilliant  Francis  I.  of  France; 
in  it  she  pleads  with  them  to  give  peace  to  Italy  and  join 
their  forces,  so  as  to  drive  back  from  the  shores  of  Europe 
the  host  of  the  infidels.  Her  death  occurred  in  the  year 
1550,  and  then,  Mrs.  Jameson  tells  us  in  somewhat  ambig- 
uous phrase,  "she  was  buried  by  her  husband."  A  little 
reflection  will  clear  away  the  doubt,  however,  and  make 
clear  the  fact  that  she  was  laid  to  rest  beside  the  husband  for 
whom  she  had  buried  herself  in  black  for  so  many  years. 
No  woman  more  completely  devoted  herself  to  her  hus- 
band's memory,  by  means  of  her  enduring  verse,  or  de- 
serves a  higher  place  in  the  annals  of  conjugal  poetry, 
than  Vittoria  Colonna;  such  laurel  wreaths  did  she  put 
upon  the  brow  of  her  spouse,  the  Marquis  of  Pescara, 
that  Ariosto  was  tempted  to  say,  in  substance,  that  if 
Alexander  had  envied  Achilles  the  fame  he  had  acquired 
in  the  songs  of  Homer,  how  much  more  would  he  have 
envied  Pescara  those  strains  wherein  his  gifted  wife  had 
exalted  his  fame  above  that  of  all  contemporary  heroes! 
Vittoria  came  from  most  illustrious  families,  as  her  father 
was  the  Grand  Constable  Fabrizio  Colonna  and  her  mother 
was  Anna  di  Montefeltro,  daughter  of  Federigo,  the  first 
great  Duke  of  Urbino.  At  the  early  age  of  four,  fate 
joined  Vittoria  in  an  infant  marriage  to  the  young  Count 
d'Avalo,  who  was  of  her  own  age,  and  who  later,  as  the 
Marquis  of  Pescara,  really  became  her  husband.  When 
Vittoria  was  but  a  young  girl,  her  beauty  and  her  wonder- 
ful talents,  added  to  her  high  station,  made  her  conspicuous 
among  her  countrywomen,  and  her  hand  was  often  sought 
in  marriage  even  by  reigning  princes.  Both  the  Duke  of 
Savoy  and  the  Duke  of  Bragariza  desired  to  marry  her, 
and  the  pope  was  even  persuaded  to  plead  their  cause; 


BRIGHTER  SIDE  OF  THE  SIXTEENTH  CENTURY       163 

but  all  to  no  avail,  as  she  had  long  considered  her  future 
settled  and  had  no  desire  to  change  it.  At  the  age  of  seven- 
teen they  celebrated  their  wedding,  and  their  life  together, 
which  began  with  that  moment,  was  never  marred  by  a 
single  discordant  note. 

The  first  four  years  of  their  married  life  were  spent  on 
the  island  of  Ischia,  where  Pescara  had  a  villa  and  a  small 
estate,  and  there  they  lived  in  an  idyllic  happiness  which 
has  almost  become  proverbial.  The  young  husband  was 
not  so  studiously  inclined  as  was  his  gifted  wife,  but  he 
was  a  manly  fellow,  much  given  to  athletic  pursuits,  and 
with  a  decided  taste  for  a  military  career,  and  Vittoria 
was  loved  by  him  in  a  most  tender  and  noble  fashion. 
They  were  denied  the  happiness  of  children,  and  the  young 
wife  expresses  her  sorrow  over  this  fact  in  her  twenty- 
second  sonnet;  but  she  consoles  herself  by  adding:  "since 
it  is  not  given  to  me  to  be  the  mother  of  sons  who  shall 
inherit  their  father's  glory,  at  least  may  I  be  able,  by 
uniting  my  name  with  his  in  verse,  to  become  the  mother 
of  his  great  deeds  and  lofty  fame."  After  their  long 
honeymoon  had  come  to  an  end,  Pescara  was  moved  to 
return  to  the  world,  or  rather  to  enter  it  for  the  first 
time  as  a  man,  and  he  entered  the  imperial  army.  At 
the  age  of  twenty-one,  as  a  general  of  cavalry,  he  took 
part  in  the  battle  of  Ravenna,  where  he  was  made  a  pris- 
oner of  war.  After  a  year's  detention,  however,  he  was 
allowed  to  return  to  his  post,  and  then  followed  campaign- 
ing in  various  parts  of  the  peninsula.  Vittoria,  during  all 
these  days  of  absence,  had  remained  quietly  in  their  island 
home  at  Ischia,  where  she  devoted  her  time  to  the  com- 
position of  those  sonnets  in  honor  of  her  husband's  glorious 
deeds  which  have  since  brought  her  such  lasting  reputa- 
tion. In  token  of  her  fidelity  and  her  general  attitude 
toward  the  world  and  society  at  this  time,  Vittoria  had 


1 64  WOMAN 

adopted  as  her  device  a  small  Cupid  within  the  circlet  of 
a  twisted  snake,  and  under  it  was  the  significant  motto: 
Quern  peperit  virtus  prudentia  servet  amor  em  [Discretion 
shall  guard  the  love  which  virtue  inspired].  The  soldier- 
husband  came  for  a  hasty  visit  to  Ischia  whenever  dis- 
tances and  the  varying  fortunes  of  war  made  it  possible; 
but  his  stays  were  brief,  and  he  always  wore  in  his  wife's 
eyes  that  romantic  halo  which  it  was  but  natural  that  a 
poetic  woman  should  throw  about  the  head  of  a  young 
and  brilliant  general  whose  handsome  features  and  noble 
carriage  made  him  none  the  less  attractive,  and  who  hap- 
pened at  the  same  time  to  be  her  husband. 

After  a  somewhat  short  but  notable  career  as  a  soldier, 
Pescara  was  given  entire  command  of  the  imperial  armies, 
and  he  it  was  who  directed  the  fortunes  of  the  day  during 
that  memorable  battle  of  Pavia  when  King  Francis  I.  of 
France  was  captured,  and  when  the  illustrious  French 
knight  "without  fear  and  without  reproach,"  the  Cheva- 
lier Bayard,  made  that  remark  which  has  long  since  become 
historic,  Tout  est  perdu  for s  I'honneur.  That  battle  won, 
and  with  such  credit  to  himself,  Pescara  was  loaded  with 
praise  and  rewards,  and,  as  is  often  the  case  under  such 
circumstances,  he  was  subjected  to  some  temptations.  His 
power  had  become  so  great,  and  his  military  skill  was 
considered  so  remarkable,  that  efforts  were  made  to  entice 
him  from  the  imperial  service;  he  was  actually  offered 
the  crown  of  the  kingdom  of  Naples  in  case  he  would  be 
willing  to  renounce  his  allegiance  to  Charles  V.  The  offer 
tempted  him,  and  he  hesitated  for  a  moment,  writing  to 
his  wife  to  ascertain  her  opinion  on  the  subject.  It  is 
clear  that  he  wavered  in  his  duty,  but  his  excuse  to  Vit- 
toria  was  that  he  longed  to  see  her  on  a  throne  which  she 
could  grace  indeed.  She,  however,  without  a  moment's 
hesitation,  wrote  to  him  to  remain  faithful  to  his  sovereign, 


BRIGHTER  SIDE  OF  THE  SIXTEENTH  CENTURY       165 

saying,  in  a  letter  cited  by  Giambattista  Rota:  "I  do  not 
desire  to  be  the  wife  of  a  king,  but  rather  of  that  great 
captain  who,  by  means  of  his  valor  in  war  and  his  nobility 
of  soul  in  time  of  peace,  has  been  able  to  conquer  the 
greatest  monarchs."  Pescara,  obedient  to  his  wife's  de- 
sire, immediately  began  to  free  himself  from  the  tempta- 
tions which  had  been  besetting  his  path,  but  he  had  gone 
so  far  upon  this  dangerous  road  that  he  was  able  to  turn 
aside  from  it  only  after  his  hitherto  untarnished  honor  had 
been  sullied.  The  criticism  which  he  received  at  this  time 
made  him  melancholy,  and,  weakened  by  wounds  received 
at  the  battle  of  Pavia,  which  now  broke  out  again,  he  soon 
came  to  his  end  at  Milan,  at  the  age  of  thirty -five.  Though 
she  was  for  a  long  time  stunned  by  her  grief,  Vittoria 
finally  accepted  her  sorrow  with  some  degree  of  calmness. 
Back  she  then  went  to  Ischia,  where  they  had  passed 
those  earlier  days  together,  and  there,  for  seven  years 
almost  without  interruption,  she  spent  her  time  think- 
ing of  the  dead  lord  of  Pescara,  and  extolling  him  in 
her  verse.  Still  young  and  beautiful,  it  was  but  natural 
that  her  grief  might  be  controlled  in  time  and  that  she 
might  again  find  happiness  in  married  life.  Distinguished 
princes  pleaded  with  her  in  vain,  and  even  her  brothers 
urged  her  to  this  course,  which,  under  the  circumstances, 
they  considered  entirely  within  the  bounds  of  propriety; 
but  to  them  all  she  gave  the  calm  assurance  that  her  noble 
husband,  though  dead  to  others,  was  still  alive  for  her  and 
constantly  in  her  thoughts.  After  the  first  period  of  her 
grief  had  passed,  she  found  herself  much  drawn  toward 
spiritual  and  religious  thoughts,  and  then  it  was  that  her 
poetry  became  devotional  in  tone  and  sacred  subjects  were 
now  her  only  inspiration.  Roscoe  mentions  the  fact  that 
she  was  at  this  time  suspected  of  sympathizing  in  secret 
with  the  reformed  doctrines  in  religion  which  were  then 


1 66  WOMAN 

making  such  headway  in  the  North  and  playing  such 
havoc  with  the  papal  interests,  but  there  seems  little 
ground  for  this  suspicion  beyond  the  fact  that  her  devo- 
tion to  the  things  of  the  spirit  and  her  somewhat  austere 
ideas  in  regard  to  manners  and  morals  were  in  that  day  so 
unusual  as  to  call  forth  comment.  This  sacred  verse  was 
published  in  a  volume  entitled  Rime  spirituali,  and  Guingene 
is  authority  for  the  statement  that  no  other  author  before 
Vittoria  Colonna  had  ever  published  a  volume  of  poetry 
devoted  exclusively  to  religious  themes. 

Her  most  faithful  friend  and  admirer  in  all. her  long 
widowhood  of  twenty-two  years  was  the  great  artist, 
sculptor,  and  painter,  Michael  Angelo,  who  never  failed  to 
treat  her  with  the  tenderest  courtesy  and  respect.  No 
other  woman  had  ever  touched  his  heart,  and  she  gave 
him  suggestion  and  inspiration  for  much  of  his  work. 
After  those  first  seven  years  of  loneliness  at  Ischia,  Vit- 
toria spent  much  time  in  the  convents  of  Orvieto  and 
Viterbo,  and  later  she  lived  in  the  greatest  seclusion  at 
Rome;  there  it  was  that  death  overtook  her.  Wherever 
she  went,  Michael  Angelo's  thoughtfulness  followed  her 
out,  and  in  those  last  moments  at  Rome  he  was  with  her, 
faithful  to  the  end.  He  was  the  kindly,  rugged  master- 
genius  of  his  time,  an  intellectual  giant,  and  she  was  a 
woman  of  rare  devotion  and  purity  of  soul;  and  the  real 
Platonic  affection  which  seems  to  have  possessed  them, 
in  that  age  of  license  and  scepticism,  is  touching  and  im- 
pressive. What  this  friendship  meant  to  him,  the  poet 
has  expressed  in  the  following  sonnet  addressed  to  Vittoria, 
which  is  here  given  in  Wordsworth's  matchless  translation: 

"  Yes !  hope  may  with  my  strong  desire  keep  pace, 
And  I  be  undeluded,  unbetrayed ; 
For  if  of  our  affections  none  find  grace 
In  sight  of  Heaven,  then,  wherefore  had  God  made 


BRIGHTER  SIDE  OF  THE  SIXTEENTH  CENTURY       167 

The  world  which  we  inhabit  ?    Better  plea 

Love  cannot  have  than  that  in  loving  thee 

Glory  to  that  eternal  peace  is  paid, 

Who  such  divinity  to  thee  imparts 

As  hallows  and  makes  pure  all  gentle  hearts. 

His  hope  is  treacherous  only  whose  love  dies 

With  beauty,  which  is  varying  every  hour : 

But  in  chaste  hearts,  uninfluenced  by  the  power 

Of  outward  change,  there  blooms  a  deathless  flower, 

That  breathes  on  earth  the  air  of  Paradise." 

The  ducal  court  at  Ferrara  became,  in  the  latter  half  of 
the  sixteenth  century,  the  centre  of  much  intellectual  life 
and  brilliancy;  generous  patronage  was  extended  to  the 
arts  and  to  literature,  and  here  gathered  together  a  com- 
pany which  rivalled  in  splendor  the  court  of  Urbino  in  the 
days  of  the  Countess  Elizabetta.  The  duke,  Alfonso  II., 
son  of  that  unfortunate  Renee,  daughter  of  Louis  XII.  of 
France,  who  had  been  kept  in  an  Italian  prison  for  twelve 
long  years  because  of  her  suspected  sympathy  with  the 
reformed  doctrines,  came  of  a  long  line  of  princes  who  had 
in  the  past  given  liberally  to  the  cause  of  learning.  During 
his  reign,  which  covers  the  period  from  1559  to  1597,  the 
social  side  of  court  life  in  his  dukedom  came  into  special 
prominence.  The  two  sisters  of  Alfonso — Lucrezia  and 
Leonora — presided  over  this  court,  and  to  it  came,  from 
time  to  time,  many  of  the  most  beautiful  women  of  Italy. 
Tarquinia  Moeza  was  there,  a  woman  of  beauty  and  of  rare 
poetic  gifts;  Lucrezia  Bendidio,  beautiful  and  accomplished, 
and  having  constantly  about  her  a  most  admiring  throng 
of  poets  and  literati;  and  later  came  the  two  acknowledged 
beauties  of  the  day,  Leonora  di  Sanvitali,  Countess  of 
Scandiano,  and  her  no  less  charming  mother-in-law,  Bar- 
bara, Countess  of  Sala.  Among  the  men  of  this  company, 
suffice  it  to  mention  the  name  of  the  poet  Guarini,  whose 
fame  has  become  enduring  on  account  of  his  charming 
and  idyllic  drama,  //  pastor  fido,  for  he  it  is  who  seems  to 


1 68  WOMAN 

embody  that  sprightliness  of  wit  which  gave  to  Ferrara  at 
that  time  its  gladsome  reputation. 

To  this  court  there  came,  for  the  first  time,  in  the  year 
1565,  young  Torquato  Tasso,  poet  and  courtier,  scholar 
and  gentleman,  and  already  the  author  of  a  published  nar- 
rative poem,  the  Rinaldo,  which  caused  him  to  be  hailed 
as  the  most  promising  poet  of  his  generation  when  he  was 
but  in  his  eighteenth  year.  Bernardo  Tasso,  the  poet's 
father,  was  likewise  a  poet  and  a  professional  courtier  of 
some  distinction,  and  varying  fortunes  had  taken  him  to 
Urbino,  where  the  son  Torquato  grew  up,  surrounded  by 
all  the  evidences  of  refinement  and  culture.  He  had  been 
favored  by  nature  with  a  tall  and  commanding  figure,  and 
his  good  looks  had  already  caused  more  than  one  gentle 
heart  to  flutter,  when,  at  the  age  of  twenty-one,  with  his 
father's  consent  and  approval,  he  entered  the  service  of 
the  Cardinal  Luigi  d'Este,  and  became  at  once  a  conspicu- 
ous figure  in  court  circles.  Almost  instantly  the  youth, 
filled  as  he  was  with  most  romantic  ideas  and  readily  sus- 
ceptible to  the  power  of  woman's  beauty,  fell  a  captive  to 
the  charms  of  the  Princess  Leonora  d'Este,  who,  though 
some  ten  years  his  senior,  seemed  to  embody  all  the 
graces  and  to  completely  satisfy  the  ideal  which  up  to  this 
time  he  had  been  able  to  see  only  with  his  mind's  eye. 
Leonora  had  already  been  sought  in  marriage  by  many  titled 
suitors,  but  she  had  invariably  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  such 
proposals,  never  finding  one  who  could  please  her  fancy 
or  who  promised  comfort  in  her  loneliness.  For  she  was 
lonely  in  that  court,  as  she  seems  to  have  dwelt  in  a  sort 
of  spiritual  isolation  most  of  the  time;  there  was  always  a 
melancholy  air  about  her,  which  had  no  doubt  been  in- 
duced in  large  measure  by  her  mother's  sad  fate.  For 
Tasso  to  love  her  was  most  natural;  but  they  both  knew 
that  such  a  love  could  be  but  hopeless,  and  it  cannot  be 


BRIGHTER  SIDE  OF  THE  SIXTEENTH  CENTURY       169 

said  that  she  encouraged  him  in  any  covert  manner  or  that 
he  made  open  profession  of  his  passion.  It  is  true  that  he 
makes  her  the  subject  of  many  of  his  poems,  wherein 
he  lauds  her  to  the  skies,  but  this  is  no  more  than  was 
expected  of  a  court  poet;  he  did  the  same  for  other  ladies, 
but  in  all  that  was  dedicated  to  her  charms  there  seems  to 
shine  forth  a  truer  light  of  real  affection  than  is  found  in 
all  the  others.  What  words  of  affection,  if  any,  passed 
between  them  can  never  be  known;  but  it  seems  that 
there  must  have  been  some  sort  of  tacit  consent  to  his 
silent  adoration,  and  Tasso  tells  in  a  madrigal,  perhaps  in 
proof  of  this,  that  once,  when  he  had  asked  her  pardon 
for  having  put  his  arm  upon  her  own  in  the  eagerness 
of  conversation,  she  replied,  with  gentleness:  "You 
offended,  not  by  putting  your  arm  there,  but  by  taking 
it  away!" 

For  twelve  years  Tasso  remained  at  Ferrara,  constantly 
writing  sonnets  and  short  poems  of  all  descriptions,  which 
were  most  often  addressed  to  Leonora,  but  at  the  same 
time  he  was  busily  working  upon  that  longer  poem  in  epic 
form,  descriptive  of  the  First  Crusade,  the  Gerusalemme 
liberata,  wherein  he  puts  a  new  feeling  into  Italian  poetry, 
which  had  been  expressed  before  by  Ariosto  in  his  amatory 
verse,  but  which  cannot  be  found  to  any  great  extent  in 
his  more  pretentious  work,  the  Orlando  Furioso.  This 
new  feeling  was  real  sentiment,  and  not  sentimentality, 
and  it  denotes  the  growing  conception  of  the  worth  and 
dignity  of  womanhood  which  we  have  already  discovered 
in  the  poetry  of  Michael  Angelo.  Allowing  for  the  infinite 
contradictions  possible  in  human  nature,  it  may  be  that 
these  men  of  the  same  time,  who  so  coolly  killed  their 
wives  and  sisters  for  acts  of  infidelity,  were  touched  in 
some  dim  way  with  the  same  feeling,  to  which,  alas!  they 
gave  but  sorry  expression,  if  the  surmise  be  true. 


I/O  WOMAN 

The  constant  excitement  of  the  court  and  his  unending 
literary  labors  commenced  to  tell  upon  the  poet  in  1575, 
when  his  health  began  to  fail  and  he  grew  irritable  and 
restless,  became  subject  to  delusions,  fancied  that  he  had 
been  denounced  by  the  Inquisition,  and  was  in  daily  terror 
of  being  poisoned.  Then  it  was  said  that  the  poet  was 
mad,  and  there  are  some  who  have  whispered  that  it  was 
his  unrequited  love  for  the  Princess  Leonora  which  brought 
about  this  calamity.  However  that  may  be,  the  climax 
was  reached  in  the  year  1577,  when  Tasso,  in  the  presence 
of  Lucrezia  d'Este, — who  was  then  Duchess  of  Urbino, — 
drew  a  knife  upon  one  of  his  servants.  For  this  he  was 
arrested,  but  soon  after  was  given  his  liberty  on  condition 
that  he  should  go  to  a  Franciscan  monastery  and  give  him- 
self that  rest  and  attention  which  his  failing  health  de- 
manded. Here,  however,  he  was  beset  with  the  idea  that 
the  duke  sought  to  take  his  life,  and  he  fled  in  disguise  to 
his  sister,  who  was  then  living  at  Sorrento.  Various  ex- 
planations have  been  given  for  this  sudden  flight,  and 
some  biographers  have  insinuated  that  the  duke  had  dis- 
covered some  hidden  intrigue  between  his  sister  Leonora 
and  Tasso  which  had  caused  the  latter  to  fear  for  his  safety. 
This  supposition  cannot  be  accepted  as  true,  however,  for 
if  the  duke  had  known  or  had  even  strongly  suspected 
such  a  thing  he  would  have  promptly  put  the  poet  to  death 
without  compunction,  and  such  a  course  of  action  would 
have  been  entirely  justified  by  the  public  sentiment  of  the 
time.  And  if  the  supposition  were  true,  is  it  probable 
that  Tasso  would  have  been  allowed  to  return  to  Ferrara 
in  a  short  time,  as  he  did?  Now  begins  a  confused  life, 
and  the  poet  comes  and  goes,  moved  by  a  strange  restless- 
ness, never  happy  away  from  Ferrara,  yet  never  caring  to 
stay  there  long.  Finally,  on  one  occasion  he  thought  him- 
self so  neglected  at  his  return  that  he  made  a  most  violent 


BRIGHTER  SIDE  OF  THE  SIXTEENTH  CENTURY       171 

scene,  and  became  so  bitter  and  incoherent  in  his  com- 
plaints that  he  was  pronounced  insane  and  imprisoned  by 
order  of  the  duke.  There  he  remained  for  seven  years, 
and  the  most  of  that  time  he  was  in  a  well-lighted  and 
well-furnished  room,  where  he  was  allowed  to  receive 
visitors  and  devote  himself  to  literary  work  whenever  he 
so  desired.  At  the  end  of  this  time,  in  which  Tasso  him- 
self speaks  of  his  mental  disorder,  he  went  to  Mantua, 
where  he  had  been  invited  by  the  Prince  Vincenzo  Gon- 
zaga;  there  he  spent  a  few  pleasant  months;  but  he  soon 
grew  discontented,  the  roaming  fit  came  upon  him  again, 
and  after  a  number  of  years  of  pitiful  endeavor  he  finally 
died,  in  1595,  at  the  convent  of  Saint  Onofrio. 

It  does  not  seem  just  to  blame  the  Princess  Leonora 
d'Este  for  the  sad  fate  which  befell  Tasso,  as  so  many 
have  done,  for  there  is  no  proof  of  any  unkindness  on  her 
part.  That  he  loved  her  there  can  be  but  little  doubt,  but 
hardly  to  the  verge  of  madness,  as  he  wrote  love  sonnets 
to  other  ladies  at  the  same  time;  the  truth  seems  to  be 
that  he  became  mentally  unbalanced  as  the  result  of  the 
precocious  development  of  his  powers,  which  made  a  man 
of  him  while  yet  a  boy  and  developed  in  him  an  intensity 
of  feeling  which  made  his  candle  of  life  burn  fiercely,  but 
for  a  short  time  only.  His  end  was  but  the  natural  con- 
sequence of  the  beginning,  and  whether  Leonora  helped  or 
hindered  in  the  final  result,  it  matters  not,  for  she  was 
blameless.  She  died  in  the  second  year  of  Tasso's  im- 
prisonment, sad  at  heart  as  she  had  ever  been,  never 
deeply  touched  by  the  poet's  constant  praises,  and  to  the 
end  a  victim  to  that  melancholy  mood  which  had  come 
upon  her  in  childhood. 


Chapter  X 

2Tf)e  Sebenteentf)  antr  iBtgfjteentf) 
ffimturtes 


THE   SEVENTEENTH   AND   EIGHTEENTH 
CENTURIES 

THE  transition  from  the  sixteenth  to  the  seventeenth 
century  in  Italy  was  marked  by  no  sudden  changes  of  any 
kind.  The  whole  country  was  thoroughly  prostrate  and 
under  the  control  of  the  empire;  a  national  spirit  did  not 
exist,  and  the  people  seemed  content  to  slumber  on  with- 
out opposing  in  any  way  the  tyranny  of  their  foreign 
masters.  The  glory  of  the  Italian  Renaissance  had  been 
sung  in  all  the  countries  of  Europe;  in  every  nook  and  cor- 
ner of  the  continent,  Italian  painters  and  sculptors,  princes 
and  poets,  artists  and  artisans  of  all  kinds,  had  stimulated 
this  new  birth  of  the  world;  but  this  mission  accomplished, 
Italy  seemed  to  find  little  more  to  do,  and  for  lack  of  an 
ideal  her  sons  and  daughters  wasted  their  time  in  the  pur- 
suit of  idle  things.  It  was  the  natural  reaction  after  an 
age  of  unusual  force  and  brilliancy.  In  the  shadow  of  the 
great  achievements  of  the  sixteenth  century  in  all  lines  of 
human  activity,  the  seventeenth,  lost  in  admiration,  could 
imagine  no  surer  way  to  equal  attainment  than  to  imitate 
what  had  gone  before.  Literature  became  stilted  and  full 
of  mannerisms  and  underwent  a  process  of  refinement 
which  left  it  without  strength  or  vigor,  and  society  in 
general  seemed  more  concerned  with  form  and  ceremony 
than  with  the  deeper  things  of  the  spirit. 

175 


176  WOMAN 

Countless  examples  are  on  record  to  show  the  petty 
jealousies  which  were  agitating  the  public  mind  at  this 
time,  and  the  number  of  quarrels  and  arguments  which 
had  their  origin  in  most  trivial  causes  passes  belief.  Rank 
and  position  were  of  the  utmost  consequence,  and  ques- 
tions of  precedence  in  public  functions  were  far  more 
eagerly  discussed  than  were  questions  of  national  policy. 
Naples,  under  the  control  of  Spanish  princes,  was  particu- 
larly noted  for  such  exhibitions  of  undignified  behavior. 
On  one  occasion,  during  a  solemn  church  ceremony,  the 
military  governor  of  the  city  left  the  cathedral  in  a  great 
rage  because  he  had  noticed  that  a  small  footstool  had  been 
placed  for  the  archbishop,  while  nothing  of  the  kind  had 
been  provided  for  his  own  comfort.  At  the  death  of  a  cer- 
tain princess,  the  royal  commissioners  delayed  the  funeral 
because  it  was  claimed  that  she  had  used  arms  and  insignia 
of  nobility  above  her  true  rank,  and  was  not  entitled, 
therefore,  to  the  brilliant  obsequies  which  were  being 
planned  by  the  members  of  her  family.  The  body  was 
finally  put  in  a  vault  and  left  unburied  until  the  matter 
had  been  passed  upon  by  the  heraldry  experts  in  Madrid! 
During  the  funeral  services  which  were  being  held  in 
honor  of  the  Queen  of  Spain,  the  archbishop  desired  foot- 
stools placed  for  all  the  bishops  present,  but  the  vice- 
gerent opposed  this  innovation,  and  the  ceremony  was 
finally  suspended  because  they  could  come  to  no  agree- 
ment. The  cities  of  Cremona  and  Pavia  were  in  litigation 
for  eighty-two  years  over  the  question  as  to  which  should 
have  precedence  over  the  other  in  public  functions  where 
representatives  of  the  two  places  happened  to  be  together; 
finally,  the  Milanese  Senate,  to  which  the  question  was 
submitted,  "  after  careful  examination  and  mature  delibera- 
tion, decided  that  it  had  nothing  to  decide."  Another  ex- 
ample of  this  small-mindedness  is  shown  in  the  case  of 


SEVENTEENTH  AND  EIGHTEENTH  CENTURIES       177 

the  General  Giovanni  Serbelloni,  who,  while  fighting  in  the 
Valteline  in  1625,  was  unwilling  to  open  a  despatch  which 
had  been  sent  to  him,  because  he  had  not  been  addressed 
by  all  his  titles.  It  is  a  pleasure  to  add  that  as  a  result 
of  this  action  he  was  left  in  ignorance  as  to  the  approach  of 
the  enemy  and  the  next  day  suffered  a  severe  defeat. 

Rome  was  the  seat  of  much  splendor  and  display — an 
inevitable  state  of  affairs  when  the  fact  is  taken  into  con- 
sideration that  the  city  was  filled  with  legates  and  embas- 
sies, all  anxious  to  wait  upon  his  holiness  the  pope  and 
gain  some  special  privilege  or  concession.  At  this  time 
the  cardinals,  too,  were  not  mere  ecclesiastics,  but  rather 
men  of  great  wealth  and  power;  often  they  became  prime 
ministers  in  their  several  countries, — as  Richelieu,  for  ex- 
ample,— and  the  great  and  influential  houses  of  Savoy, 
Este,  Gonzaga,  Farnese,  Barberini,  and  many  others, 
always  possessed  one  or  more  of  them  who  vied  in  mag- 
nificence with  the  pope  himself.  And  all  this  helped  to 
make  the  Eternal  City  the  scene  of  much  brilliancy.  The 
papal  court  was  the  natural  centre  of  all  this  animation, 
and  many  a  stately  procession  wended  its  way  to  the 
Vatican.  On  one  occasion,  the  Duke  of  Parma,  wishing 
to  compliment  a  newly  elected  pope,  sent  as  his  repre- 
sentative the  Count  of  San  Secondo,  who  went  to  his 
solemn  interview  followed  by  a  long  procession  of  one 
hundred  and  fifty  carriages,  and  appeared  before  the 
pontiff  with  eighteen  distinguished  prelates  in  his  train. 
This  mad  passion  for  display  led  to  so  many  evils  of  all 
kinds  that  Urban  VIII.  prohibited  "indecent  garments" 
for  both  men  and  women.  In  the  interests  of  public 
morality,  it  was  further  decreed  that  women  were  not  to 
take  music  lessons  from  men,  and  nuns  were  allowed  no 
other  professors  than  their  own  companions.  Public  sing- 
ing, distinct  from  religious  ceremonies,  was  a  novelty  at 


178  WOMAN 

this  time,  and  women  with  the  gift  of  song  were  paid  most 
liberally  for  their  services.  Venice  was  the  city  most 
noted  for  its  festivals  and  carnivals,  and  here  these  women 
were  given  most  generous  treatment. 

In  Florence,  as  in  all  the  rest  of  Italy,  Spain  was  taken 
as  "  the  glass  of  fashion,  the  mould  of  form  "  for  the  first 
part  of  the  century,  but  the  splendor  of  the  court  of  Louis 
Quatorze  soon  caused  French  fashions  to  reign  supreme. 
Then,  as  now,  brides  were  accustomed  to  dress  in  white, 
while  married  women  were  given  a  wide  latitude  in  their 
choice  of  colors.  At  first,  widows  wore  a  dress  distinctive 
not  only  in  color  but  in  cut,  yet  eventually  they  were  to 
be  distinguished  by  only  a  small  headdress  of  black  crape. 
Young  women  were  much  given  to  curling  their  hair,  and 
at  the  same  time  it  was  the  fashion  to  wear  upon  the  fore- 
head a  cluster  of  blond  curls,  a  petite  perruque,  which,  in 
the  words  of  an  old  chronicler,  Rinuccini,  "is  very  unbe- 
coming to  those  whose  hair  happens  to  be  of  another 
color."  From  the  same  authority  is  derived  the  following 
information  concerning  the  women  belonging  to  the  under 
crust  of  society:  "Prostitutes,  formerly,  all  wore  an  ap- 
parent sign  which  revealed  their  infamous  profession;  it 
was  a  yellow  ribbon  fastened  to  the  strings  of  the  hats, 
which  were  then  in  fashion;  when  hats  went  out  of  style, 
the  yellow  ribbon  was  worn  in  the  hair,  and  if  the  women 
were  ever  found  without  it  they  were  severely  punished. 
Finally,  on  payment  of  a  certain  tax,  they  were  allowed 
to  go  without  the  ribbon,  and  then  they  were  to  be  distin- 
guished by  their  impudence  only."  In  Florence,  women 
of  this  class  were  especially  noted  for  their  beauty,  and 
there  it  was  customary  to  compel  them  all  to  live  within  a 
certain  district. 

In  the  average  Florentine  household  it  had  been  the 
custom  to  have  three  women  servants, — a  cook,  a  second 


SEVENTEENTH  AND  EIGHTEENTH  CENTURIES        179 

girl,  and  a  matrona.  This  third  servant  was  better  edu- 
cated than  the  others,  and  it  was  her  duty,  outside  of  the 
house,  to  keep  her  mistress  company,  whether  she  rode  in 
her  carriage  or  went  about  on  foot.  At  home,  she  did  the 
sewing  and  the  mending,  and  generally  dressed  her  mis- 
tress and  combed  her  hair.  For  this  work  the  matrona 
received  a  salary  of  six  or  seven  dollars  a  month,  and  it 
seems  to  have  been  usual  for  her  employers  to  arrange  a 
good  marriage  for  her  after  several  years  of  service,  giving 
her  at  that  time  from  one  hundred  to  one  hundred  and  fifty 
crowns  as  a  dowry.  Later  in  the  century,  the  matrona 
does  not  seem  to  have  been  so  common,  and  many  women 
went  alone  in  their  carriages,  while  on  foot  they  were 
accompanied  by  a  manservant  in  livery.  The  wealthier 
ladies  of  the  nobility,  however,  were  accompanied  in  their 
conveyances  by  a  don^ella,  and  on  the  street  and  in  all 
public  places  by  an  elderly  and  dignified  manservant, 
dressed  in  black,  who  was  known  as  the  cavaliere.  The 
fashion  with  regard  to  this  male  protector  became  so  wide- 
spread that  the  women  of  the  middle  class  were  in  the 
habit  of  hiring  the  services  of  some  such  individual  for 
their  occasional  use  on  fe"te  days  and  whenever  they  went 
to  mass.  The  further  development  of  this  custom  and  its 
effect  upon  public  morals  in  the  following  century  will  be 
discussed  on  another  page. 

Busy  with  all-absorbing  questions  of  dress,  etiquette, 
and  domestic  management,  it  does  not  appear  that  the 
women  of  the  seventeenth  century  in  Italy  took  any  great 
share  in  public  events,  although  one  Italian  woman  at 
least,  leaving  the  country  of  her  birth,  was  placed  by  fate 
upon  a  royal  throne.  Henry  IV.  of  France,  about  the 
year  1600,  was  hard  pressed  for  the  payment  of  certain 
debts  by  Ferdinand  I.,  Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany,  as  the 
Medici  were  still  the  bankers  of  Europe,  and  the  French 


ISO  WOMAN 

king  was  owing  more  than  a  million  louis  d'or;  but  the 
whole  matter  was  settled  in  a  satisfactory  way  when 
Henry  gave  definite  promises  to  pay  within  a  dozen  years. 
To  maintain  his  credit  in  the  meantime,  and  to  facilitate 
the  payment  of  the  money,  the  one-time  King  of  Navarre 
demanded  in  marriage  Marie  de'  Medici,  the  niece  of  the 
grand  duke;  it  is  needless  to  say  that  the  request  was 
speedily  granted,  for  the  pride  and  ambition  of  this  rich 
Tuscan  family  were  unlimited,  and  the  memory  of  that 
other  daughter  of  the  house  of  Medici,  Catherine,  who 
had  been  Queen  of  France  and  mother  of  three  French 
kings,  was  still  fresh  in  the  minds  of  all.  The  wedding 
ceremony  was  performed  in  great  splendor,  at  Florence, 
Henry  sending  a  proxy  to  represent  him  at  that  time;  and 
then  the  young  bride  set  out  for  France,  followed  by  a 
glittering  retinue,  and  bearing,  as  her  dowry,  six  hundred 
thousand  crowns  of  gold.  Arriving  at  Leghorn,  they  took 
ship  for  Marseilles,  and  then  began  a  triumphal  march 
across  the  country,  cities  vying  with  each  other  in  doing 
her  honor.  Cantu  tells  us  that  at  Avignon,  which  was 
still  a  city  under  the  temporal  sway  of  the  pope,  Marie 
was  placed  in  a  chariot  drawn  by  two  elephants,  and  given 
an  escort  of  two  thousand  cavaliers.  There  were  seven 
triumphal  arches  and  seven  theatres;  for  it  was  the  proud 
boast  of  the  residents  of  Avignon  that  everything  went  by 
sevens  in  their  city,  as  there  were  seven  palaces,  seven 
parishes,  seven  old  convents,  seven  monasteries,  seven 
hospitals,  seven  colleges,  and  seven  gates  in  the  city  wall! 
Several  addresses  of  welcome  were  delivered  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  young  queen,  though  in  this  instance  the 
number  was  hardly  seven,  poems  were  read,  and  she  re- 
ceived a  number  of  gold  medals  bearing  her  profile  upon 
one  side  and  the  city's  coat  of  arms  upon  the  other.  Henry 
had  left  Paris  to  come  to  meet  his  bride,  and  it  was  at 


SEVENTEENTH  AND  EIGHTEENTH  CENTURIES       l8l 

Lyons  that  the  royal  pair  saw  each  other  for  the  first  time. 
It  cannot  be  said  that  this  first  interview  was  warmly  en- 
thusiastic, for  the  king  found  her  far  less  beautiful  than  the 
portrait  which  had  been  sent  to  him,  and  he  soon  came  to 
the  sad  conclusion  that  she  was  too  fat,  had  staring  eyes 
and  bad  manners,  and  was  very  stubborn. 

After  the  birth  of  a  son  and  heir,  who  later  became 
Louis  XIII.,  the  king  neglected  his  wife  to  such  an  extent 
that  she  felt  little  sorrow  at  the  time  of  his  assassination. 
Then  it  was,  as  queen-regent,  that  Marie  for  the  first  time 
entered  actively  into  political  life;  but  her  ability  in  this 
sphere  of  action  was  only  moderate,  and  she  was  soon 
the  centre  of  much  quarrel  and  contention,  wherein  the 
unyielding  feudal  nobility  and  the  Protestants  figured 
largely  as  disturbing  causes.  In  the  midst  of  these  troub- 
lous times,  the  queen  had  an  invaluable  assistant  in  the 
person  of  Eleanora  GaligaT,  her  foster-sister,  whose  hus- 
band, Concino  Concini,  a  Florentine,  had  come  to  France 
in  the  suite  of  Marie,  and  had  subsequently  risen  to  a 
position  of  influence  in  the  court.  Eventually,  he  became 
the  Marechal  d'Ancre,  and  his  wife  was  spoken  of  as 
la  Marechale  or  la  Galiga'i,  for  so  great  was  the  extent  of 
Eleanora's  control  over  the  queen  that  she  was  one  of  the 
most  conspicuous  women  in  all  Europe  at  that  time. 
Gradually,  she  was  criticised  on  account  of  the  way  in 
which  she  used  her  power,  and  it  was  alleged  that  she 
was  overmuch  in  the  company  of  divers  magicians  and 
astrologers  who  had  been  brought  from  Italy,  and  that  the 
black  art  alone  was  responsible  for  her  success.  These 
accusations  finally  aroused  such  public  hostility  that,  after 
a  trial  which  was  a  travesty  upon  justice,  Eleanora  was  soon 
condemned  to  death,  on  the  charge  of  having  unduly  influ- 
enced the  queen  by  means  of  magic  philters.  Eleanora 
went  to  her  death  bravely,  saying  with  dignity  to  her 


1 82  WOMAN 

accusers:  "  The  philter  which  I  have  used  is  the  influence 
which  every  strong  mind  possesses,  naturally,  over  every 
weaker  one." 

Not  long  after  this  Florentine  queen  of  France  was 
playing  her  part  in  public  affairs,  all  Europe  was  surprised 
by  another  woman,  whose  actions  were  without  parallel 
and  whose  case  seems  to  be  the  opposite  of  the  one  just 
cited.  Marie  de'  Medici  left  Italy  to  become  a  queen,  and 
now  a  queen  is  seen  to  abdicate  that  she  may  go  to  Rome 
to  live.  Christine,  Queen  of  Sweden,  a  most  enlightened 
woman  and  the  daughter  of  the  great  Gustavus  Adolphus 
who  had  brought  about  the  triumph  of  the  Protestant  arms 
in  Germany,  relinquished  her  royal  robes  in  the  year  1654, 
announced  her  conversion  to  Catholicism,  and  finally  went 
to  Rome,  where  she  ended  her  days.  She  was  given  a 
veritable  ovation  on  her  arrival  there,  as  may  well  be 
imagined,  for  the  Church  rarely  made  so  distinguished  a 
convert,  and  Christine,  in  acknowledgment  of  this  atten- 
tion, presented  her  crown  and  sceptre  as  a  votive  offering 
to  the  church  of  the  Santa  Casa  at  Loretto.  At  Rome 
she  lived  in  one  of  the  most  beautiful  palaces  in  the  city, 
and  there  divided  her  time  between  study  and  amuse- 
ments. Through  it  all  she  was  never  able  to  forget  the 
fact  that  she  had  been  a  queen,  and  many  examples  might 
be  given  of  her  haughty  demeanor  in  the  presence  of  those 
who  were  unwilling  to  do  her  bidding.  Before  leaving 
Sweden,  Christine  had  tried  to  gather  a  circle  of  learned 
men  about  her  at  Stockholm,  and  the  great  French  phi- 
losopher Descartes  spent  some  months  in  her  palace. 
Later,  when  in  Paris,  on  her  way  to  Italy,  a  special  ses- 
sion of  the  French  Academy  had  been  held  in  her  honor, 
and  all  of  the  literary  men  of  France  went  out  to  the  palace 
at  Fontainebleau  while  she  was  domiciled  there,  to  do  her 
honor.  Once  in  Rome,  it  was  her  immediate  desire  to 


SEVENTEENTH  AND  EIGHTEENTH  CENTURIES       183 

become  the  centre  of  a  literary  coterie,  and  to  that  end  she 
was  most  generous  in  her  gifts  to  artists  and  men  of  letters. 
Her  intelligence  and  her  liberality  soon  gave  her  great 
influence,  and  before  long  she  was  able  to  organize  an 
Academy  in  due  form  under  her  own  roof.  She  was  for 
many  years  a  most  conspicuous  figure  in  Roman  society, 
and  at  the  time  of  her  death,  in  1689,  Filical'a,  a  poet  of 
some  local  reputation,  declared  that  her  kingdom  comprised 
"all  those  who  thought,  all  those  who  acted,  and  all  those 
who  were  endowed  with  intelligence." 

In  this  seventeenth  century,  as  in  the  one  before,  parents 
were  continually  compelling  their  children  and  especially 
their  daughters  to  enter  upon  a  religious  career,  and  many 
of  them  were  forced  to  this  course  in  spite  of  their  protes- 
tations. Cantu  tells  of  the  case  of  Archangela  Tarabotti, 
who  was  compelled  to  enter  the  convent  of  Saint  Anne  at 
Venice,  though  all  her  interests  and  all  her  ways  were 
worldly  in  the  extreme.  To  the  convent  she  went,  how- 
ever, at  the  age  of  thirteen,  because  she  was  proving  a 
difficult  child  to  control,  and  there  she  was  left  to  grind 
her  teeth  in  impotent  rage.  In  common  with  many  other 
young  girls  of  her  time,  she  had  never  been  taught  to  read 
or  write,  as  the  benefit  of  such  accomplishments  was  not 
appreciated  in  any  general  way — at  least  so  far  as  women 
were  concerned;  but,  once  within  the  convent  walls,  from 
sheer  ennui,  Archangela  began  to  study  most  assiduously, 
and  finally  published  a  number  of  books  which  present  an 
interesting  description  and  criticism  of  existing  manners 
and  customs  in  so  far  as  they  had  to  do  with  women  and 
their  attitude  toward  conventual  institutions.  Having 
entered  upon  this  life  under  protest,  her  first  books  were 
written  in  a  wild,  passionate  style,  and  it  was  her  purpose 
to  make  public  the  violence  of  which  she  had  been  a  vic- 
tim, and  to  prove,  by  copious  references  to  authorities 


1 84  WOMAN 

both  sacred  and  profane,  that  women  should  be  allowed 
entire  liberty  in  their  choice  of  a  career.  Incidentally, 
she  cursed  most  thoroughly  the  fathers  who  compelled 
their  daughters  to  take  the  veil  in  spite  of  their  expressed 
unwillingness.  Perhaps  the  most  important  of  these  pro- 
tests, which  was  given  an  Elzevir  edition  in  1654,  was 
entitled  Innocence  Deceived,  or  The  Tyranny  of  Parents. 
This  special  edition  was  dedicated  to  God,  and  bore  the 
epigraph:  "Compulsory  devotion  is  not  agreeable  to 
God!"  Another  of  these  books  was  entitled  The  Hell  of 
Convent  Life,  and  these  titles  are  certainly  enough  to  show 
that  she  set  about  her  task  of  religious — or,  rather,  social 
— reform  with  a  most  fervid,  though  somewhat  bitter,  zeal. 
Naturally,  these  open  criticisms  caused  a  great  scandal  in 
ecclesiastical  circles,  and  many  vigorous  attempts  were 
made  to  reconcile  the  recalcitrant  nun  and  induce  her  to 
modify  her  views.  Finally,  moved  by  the  pious  exhorta- 
tions of  the  patriarch,  Federigo  Cornaro,  she  became  some- 
what resigned  to  her  fate.  Then  it  was  said  of  her  that 
"she  abandoned  the  pomp  of  fine  garments,  which  had 
possessed  so  great  a  charm  for  her,"  and  the  records  show 
that  the  last  years  of  her  life  were  spent  in  an  endeavor 
to  atone  for  the  extravagances  of  her  youthful  conduct. 
A  number  of  devout  books  were  produced  by  her  during 
this  time,  and  among  them  the  following  curious  titles  may 
be  noticed:  The  Paved  Road  to  Heaven  and  The  Purgatory 
of  Unhappily  Married  Women. 

A  somewhat  similar  case  of  petty  tyranny,  and  one 
which  was  soon  the  talk  of  all  Europe,  is  the  pathetic  story 
of  Roberto  AcciaTuoli  and  Elizabetta  Marmorai.  These  two 
young  people  loved  each  other  in  spite  of  the  fact  that 
Elizabetta  was  the  wife  of  Giulio  Berardi;  when  the  latter 
died,  everyone  supposed  that  the  lovers  would  marry,  and 
such  was  their  intention,  but  they  found  an  unexpected 


SEVENTEENTH  AND  EIGHTEENTH  CENTURIES        185 

obstacle  in  their  path,  for  Roberto's  uncle,  the  Cardinal 
Accial'uoli,  had  other  views  on  the  subject.  It  was  his 
desire  that  his  nephew  should  contract  a  marriage  with 
some  wealthy  Roman  family  whose  influence  might  aid 
him  to  become  pope.  The  young  man  refused  to  further 
this  project  in  any  way,  and  insisted  upon  marrying  the 
woman  of  his  choice;  the  cardinal,  in  despair,  had  to  fall 
back  upon  the  assistance  of  his  ruling  prince,  Cosmo  II., 
Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany.  Cosmo,  unwilling  to  offend 
this  prelate  who  might  some  day  become  the  head  of  the 
Church,  took  action  in  his  behalf  and  ordered  that  Eliza- 
betta  should  be  confined  in  a  Florentine  convent.  There- 
upon Roberto  fled  to  Mantua,  and,  after  having  married 
her  by  letter,  publicly  proclaimed  his  act  and  demanded 
that  his  wife  be  delivered  up  to  him.  The  best  lawyers 
in  Lombardy  now  declared  the  marriage  a  valid  one,  but  in 
Florence  the  steps  taken  were  considered  merely  as  the 
equivalent  of  a  public  betrothal.  So  the  matter  stood  for 
a  time,  until  the  pope  died  and  the  ambitious  cardinal  pre- 
sented himself  as  a  candidate  for  the  pontiff's  chair.  Then 
the  outraged  nephew  sent  to  each  one  of  the  papal  electors 
a  detailed  account  of  what  had  taken  place,  with  the  result 
that  his  uncle's  candidacy  was  a  complete  failure.  Cosmo, 
moved  somewhat  by  public  opinion,  which  was  all  upon 
the  side  of  the  lovers,  ordered  Elizabetta  to  be  released 
from  her  captivity,  whereupon  she  joined  her  husband  in 
Venice,  that  she  might  share  his  exile.  They  were  not 
allowed  to  remain  there  for  a  long  time  in  peace,  however, 
as  Cosmo,  smarting  under  the  lash  of  popular  disapproval, 
decided  to  make  an  effort  to  get  them  within  his  power 
again,  that  he  might  wreak  his  vengeance  upon  them. 
Accordingly,  he  demanded  that  the  Venetian  republic 
should  deliver  them  up,  charging  that  they  had  been  guilty 
of  gross  disrespect  toward  him,  their  sovereign.  Hearing 


1 86  WOMAN 

of  this  requisition,  Roberto  and  Elizabetta,  disguised  as 
monks,  fled  to  Germany,  but  were  recognized  at  Trent 
and  taken  back  to  Tuscany.  AcciaKuoli  was  then  deprived 
of  all  his  property  and  imprisoned  for  life  in  the  fortress  of 
Volterra,  and  his  wife  was  threatened  with  the  same  treat- 
ment if  she  persisted  in  maintaining  the  validity  of  the 
marriage.  Worn  by  all  this  trouble  and  persecution,  Eliza- 
betta weakened,  failed  to  show  the  courage  which  might 
be  expected  from  the  heroine  of  such  a  dramatic  story, 
and  preferred  to  live  alone  for  the  rest  of  her  days  than  to 
spend  her  life  in  prison  with  her  devoted  husband. 

The  eighteenth  century  found  Italy  still  under  the  con- 
trol of  foreign  rulers,  and  the  national  spirit  was  still 
unborn;  public  morals  seem  to  have  degenerated  rather 
than  improved,  and  then,  as  always,  the  women  were  no 
better  than  the  men  desired  them  to  be.  Details  of  the 
life  of  this  period  are  extremely  difficult  to  obtain,  as 
the  social  aspects  of  Italian  life  from  the  decline  of  the 
Renaissance  to  the  Napoleonic  era  have  been  quite  gener- 
ally neglected  by  historians;  the  information  which  is  ob- 
tainable must  be  derived  in  large  measure  from  books 
and  letters  on  Italian  travel,  written  for  the  most  part  by 
foreigners.  One  of  the  most  interesting  volumes  of  this 
kind  was  written  by  a  Mrs.  Piozzi,  the  English  wife  of  an 
Italian,  who  had  unusual  opportunities  for  a  close  observa- 
tion of  social  conditions;  several  of  the  following  paragraphs 
are  based  upon  her  experiences. 

The  most  striking  thing  in  the  social  life  of  this  time  is 
the  domestic  arrangement  whereby  every  married  woman 
was  supposed  to  have  at  her  beck  and  call,  in  addition  to 
her  husband,  another  cavalier,  who  was  known  as  a 
cicisbeo  and  was  the  natural  successor  of  the  Florentine 
cavaliere  before  mentioned.  Cicisbeism  has  been  much 
criticised  and  much  discussed  as  to  its  bearing  upon  public 


SEVENTEENTH  AND  EIGHTEENTH  CENTURIES       187 

morals,  and  many  opposite  opinions  have  been  expressed 
with  regard  to  it.  The  Countess  Martinengo  Cesaresco, 
who  is  a  most  careful  and  able  student  of  Italian  life,  has 
the  following  to  say  upon  the  subject:  "  He  [the  cicisbeo'] 
was  frequently  a  humble  relative — in  every  family  were 
cadets  too  poor  to  marry,  as  they  could  not  work  for  their 
living,  or  too  sincere  to  become  priests,  to  whom  cavalier 
service  secured  a  dinner,  at  any  rate,  if  they  wanted  one. 
It  was  the  custom  to  go  to  the  theatre  every  evening — the 
box  at  the  opera  was  an  integral  part  of  the  household 
arrangements,  a  continuation  of  the  salon — only  it  could 
not  be  reached  without  an  escort.  The  chaperon  did  not 
exist,  because  a  woman,  no  matter  how  old,  was  no  escort 
for  another  woman,  nor  could  she  herself  dispense  with  an 
attendant  of  the  other  sex.  A  dowager  of  sixty  and  a 
bride  of  sixteen  had  equally  to  stay  at  home  if  there  was 
not  a  man  to  accompany  them.  The  cavalier's  service 
was  particularly  in  request  at  the  theatre,  but  he  was 
more  or  less  on  duty  whenever  his  lady  left  her  house  for 
any  purpose,  with  the  doubtful  exception  of  going  to 
church.  No  husband  outside  a  honeymoon  could  be  ex- 
pected to  perform  all  these  functions:  he,  therefore,  ap- 
pointed or  agreed  upon  the  appointment  of  somebody  else 
to  act  as  his  substitute.  This  was,  in  nine  cases  out  of 
ten,  the  eminently  unromantic  cavalier  servitude  of  fact. 
The  high-flown,  complimentary  language,  the  profound 
bowing  and  hand-kissing  of  the  period,  combined  to  mys- 
tify strangers  as  to  its  real  significance.  Sometimes,  when 
there  was  really  a  lover  in  the  question,  the  cavalier  ser- 
"vente  must  have  been  a  serious  impediment;  he  was  always 
La  plante  .  .  .  a  contrecarrer  un  pauvre  tiers,  in  the 
words  of  the  witty  President  de  Brosses,  who,  though  he 
did  not  wholly  credit  the  assurances  he  received  as  to  the 
invariable  innocence  of  the  institution,  was  yet  far  from 


1 88  WOMAN 

passing  on  it  the  sweeping  judgment  arrived  at  by  most 
foreigners.  There  is  no  doubt  that  habit  and  opportunity 
did,  now  and  then,  prove  too  strong  for  the  two  individuals 
thrown  so  constantly  together.  'Juxtaposition  is  great,' 
as  Clough  says  in  his  Amours  de  Voyage;  but  that  such 
lapses  represented  the  rule  rather  than  the  exception  is 
not  borne  out  either  by  reason  or  record." 

Mrs.  Piozzi  is  somewhat  dubious  in  regard  to  this  condi- 
tion of  affairs  and  is  hardly  disposed  to  take  the  charitable 
view  which  has  just  been  given,  but  the  general  trend 
of  more  enlightened  comment  seems  to  agree  with  the 
Countess  Cesaresco.  In  Sheridan's  School  for  Scandal 
occur  the  following  lines,  which  convey  the  same  idea: 

LADY  TEAZLE. — "  You  know  I  admit  you  as  a  lover  no  farther  than 
fashion  sanctions." 

JOSEPH  SURFACE. — "True — a  mere  platonic  cicisbeo— what  every  wife 
is  entitled  to." 

Fragments  taken  somewhat  at  random  regarding  the 
women  of  several  of  the  more  important  cities  of  Italy 
may  serve  to  give  some  idea  regarding  their  general 
position  and  condition  throughout  the  country  at  large. 
Writing  from  Milan,  Mrs.  Piozzi  says:  "  There  is  a  degree 
of  effrontery  among  the  women  that  amazes  me,  and  of 
which  I  had  no  idea  till  a  friend  showed  me,  one  evening, 
from  my  own  box  at  the  opera,  fifty  or  a  hundred  low 
shopkeepers'  wives  dispersed  about  the  pit  at  the  theatre, 
dressed  in  men's  clothes  (per  disempegno,  as  they  call  it), 
that  they  might  be  more  at  liberty,  forsooth,  to  clap  and 
hiss  and  quarrel  and  jostle!  I  felt  shocked."  Venice  was, 
as  it  had  ever  been,  a  city  of  pleasure.  The  women,  gen- 
erally married  at  fifteen,  were  old  at  thirty,  and  such  was 
the  intensity  of  life  in  this  " water- logged  town" — as 
F.  Hopkinson  Smith  somewhat  irreverently  called  it  upon 


SEVENTEENTH  AND  EIGHTEENTH  CENTURIES        189 

one  occasion — that  a  traveller  was  led  to  remark:  On  ne 
gotite  pas  ses  plaisirs,  on  les  avale.  Here,  as  in  all  parts  of 
Italy  for  that  matter,  the  conditions  of  domestic  life  were 
somewhat  unusual  at  this  time,  as  it  was  the  custom  to 
employ  menservants  almost  exclusively;  as  these  servitors 
were  under  the  control  of  the  master  of  the  house,  it  was 
quite  common  for  the  women  to  intrust  to  their  husbands 
the  entire  management  of  household  affairs.  Thus  freed 
from  family  cares,  Venetian  ladies  had  little  to  occupy 
their  time  outside  of  the  pleasures  of  society.  Nothing 
was  expected  of  them  on  the  intellectual  side;  they  had 
no  thought  of  education,  found  no  resource  in  study,  and 
were  not  compelled  to  read  in  order  to  keep  up  with  society 
small-talk;  so  long  as  they  found  a  means  to  charm  their 
masculine  admirers,  nothing  more  was  demanded.  Appar- 
ently, for  them  to  charm  and  fascinate  was  not  difficult, 
for,  according  to  Mrs.  Piozzi,  "a  woman  in  Italy  is  sure  of 
applause,  so  she  takes  little  pains  to  secure  it."  Accord- 
ingly, the  women  of  Venice  seem  to  have  been  quite  un- 
pretentious in  their  manners  and  dress.  They  wore  little 
or  no  rouge,  though  they  were  much  addicted  to  the  use  of 
powder,  and  their  dresses  were  very  plain  and  presented 
little  variety.  "The  hair  was  dressed  in  a  simple  way, 
flat  on  top,  all  of  one  length,  hanging  in  long  curls  about 
the  neck  or  sides,  as  it  happens."  During  the  summer 
season  it  was  the  custom  literally  to  turn  night  into  day- 
time, as  social  functions  were  rarely  begun  before  midnight, 
and  it  was  dawn  before  the  revellers  were  brought  home 
in  their  gondolas.  At  one  place  in  Venice  were  literary 
topics  much  discussed,  and  that  was  at  Quirini's  Casino, 
a  semi-public  resort  where  ladies  were  much  in  evidence, 
and  this  was  but  the  exception  which  proved  the  rule. 

Genoa  has  been  thus  described:  "  It  possesses  men  with- 
out honesty,  women  without  modesty,  a  sea  without  fish, 


IQO  WOMAN 

and  a  woods  with  no  birds,"  and,  without  going  into  the 
merits  of  each  of  these  statements,  it  is  safe  to  say  that 
the  state  of  public  morals  in  this  city  was  about  the  same 
as  that  to  be  found  in  any  other  Italian  city.  Apropos 
of  the  poor  heating  arrangements  in  Genoese  houses, 
Mrs.  Piozzi  makes  the  following  remark,  which  gives  a 
sidelight  upon  some  of  the  customs  of  the  place  and  will 
interest  the  curious:  "To  church,  however,  and  to  the 
theatre  in  winter,  they  have  carried  a  great  green  velvet 
bag,  adorned  with  gold  tassels  and  lined  with  fur  to  keep 
their  feet  from  freezing,  as  carpets  are  not  in  use.  Poor 
women  run  about  the  streets  with  a  little  earthen  pipkin 
hanging  on  their  arm  filled  with  fire,  even  if  they  are  sent 
on  an  errand." 

In  Florence,  the  art  of  making  improvise  verses — which 
has  ever  been  popular  in  southern  countries — seems  to 
have  reached  its  highest  state  of  perfection  during  this 
eighteenth  century,  and  a  woman,  the  celebrated  Gorilla, 
was  acknowledged  to  be  the  most  expert  in  this  accom- 
plishment. At  Rome,  when  at  the  climax  of  her  wonder- 
ful career,  she  was  publicly  crowned  with  the  laurel  in  the 
presence  of  thousands  of  applauding  spectators;  and  in  her 
later  years,  at  Florence,  her  drawing  room  was  ever  filled 
with  curious  and  admiring  crowds.  Without  pretensions 
to  immaculate  character,  deep  erudition,  or  high  birth, 
which  an  Italian  esteems  above  all  earthly  things,  Gorilla 
so  made  her  way  in  the  world  that  members  of  the  nobility 
were  wont  to  throng  to  her  house,  and  many  sovereigns, 
en  passage  at  Florence,  took  pains  to  seek  her  society. 
Gorilla's  successor  was  the  beautiful  Fantastici,  a  young 
woman  of  pleasing  personality  and  remarkable  powers  of 
improvisation,  who  soon  became  a  popular  favorite. 

Both  at  home  and  abroad,  Italian  women  were  coming 
to  the  fore  in  musical  circles,  and  no  opera  in  any  one  of 


SEVENTEENTH  AND  EIGHTEENTH  CENTURIES       191 

the  continental  capitals  was  complete  without  its  prima 
donna.  Among  the  distinguished  singers  of  this  epoch 
the  two  most  celebrated  were  Faustina  Bordoni  and  Cata- 
rina  Gabrielli.  Faustina,  born  in  the  year  1700,  was  the 
daughter  of  a  noble  Venetian  family,  and  at  an  early  age 
began  to  study  music  under  the  direction  of  Gasparoni; 
when  she  was  but  sixteen,  she  made  her  debut  with  such 
success  that  she  was  immediately  given  place  as  one  of 
the  greatest  artists  on  the  lyric  stage.  In  Venice,  Naples, 
Florence,  and  Vienna,  she  displayed  such  dramatic  skill 
and  such  a  wonderful  voice  that  she  was  soon  acknowl- 
edged as  the  most  brilliant  singer  in  Europe.  Later,  she 
was  brought  to  London,  under  the  management  of  the 
great  composer  Handel,  and  there  she  finally  displaced  in 
the  public  favor  her  old-time  rival,  Cuzzoni.  The  singer 
known  as  Catarina  Gabrielli  was  the  daughter  of  the 
cook  of  the  celebrated  Cardinal  Gabrielli;  in  spite  of 
her  low  origin,  she  was  possessed  of  a  great  though  in- 
solent beauty,  in  addition  to  her  wonderful  vocal  powers, 
and  her  brilliant  career  in  Europe  was  most  exceptional  in 
every  way.  In  Italy,  later  in  Vienna,  and  even  in  far- 
away St.  Petersburg,  she  not  only  achieved  wonderful 
success  as  a  singer,  but  by  her  coquettish  ways  she  con- 
trived to  attract  a  crowd  of  most  jealous  and  ardent  ad- 
mirers, who  pursued  her  and  more  than  once  fought  for 
her  favors.  During  her  stay  in  Vienna,  the  French  am- 
bassador, who  had  fallen  a  victim  to  her  charms,  became 
so  madly  jealous  of  the  Portuguese  minister,  that  he  drew 
his  sword  on  Catarina  upon  one  occasion,  and  had  it  not 
been  for  her  whalebone  bodice  she  would  have  lost  her 
life.  As  it  was,  she  received  a  slight  scratch,  which  calmed 
the  enraged  diplomat  and  brought  him  to  his  knees.  She 
would  pardon  him  only  on  condition  that  he  would  present 
her  with  his  sword,  on  which  were  to  be  inscribed  the 


192  WOMAN 

following  words:  "Sword  of  M.  .  .  .,  who  dared  strike 
La  Gabrielli."  Through  the  intervention  of  friends,  how- 
ever, this  heavy  penalty  was  never  imposed,  and  the 
Frenchman  was  spared  the  ridicule  which  would  have 
surely  followed.  Catarina,  after  a  long  and  somewhat 
reckless  career,  passed  her  last  years  in  Bologna,  where 
she  died,  in  1796,  at  the  age  of  sixty-six,  after  having  won 
general  esteem  and  admiration  by  her  charities  and  by  her 
steadiness  of  character,  which  was  in  notable  contrast  to 
the  extravagance  of  her  earlier  life. 

Perhaps  the  three  most  distinguished  Italian  women  in 
all  the  century  were  Clelia  Borromeo,  Laura  Bassi,  and 
Gaetana  Agnesi.  The  Countess  Clelia  was  a  veritable 
grande  dame,  who  exerted  a  wide  influence  for  good  in  all 
the  north  of  Italy;  Laura  Bassi  was  a  most  learned  and 
distinguished  professor  of  philosophy  at  the  University  of 
Bologna;  and  the  last  member  of  this  illustrious  triad, 
Gaetana  Agnesi,  became  so  famous  in  the  scholarly  world 
that  her  achievements  must  be  recounted  with  some  atten- 
tion to  detail.  At  the  time  of  her  birth,  in  1718,  her  father 
was  professor  of  mathematics  at  Bologna,  and  it  appears 
that  she  was  so  precocious  that  at  the  age  of  nine  she  had 
such  command  of  the  Latin  language  that  she  was  able  to 
publish  a  long  and  carefully  prepared  address  written  in 
that  classic  tongue,  contending  that  there  was  no  reason 
why  women  should  not  devote  themselves  to  the  pursuit 
of  liberal  studies.  By  the  time  she  was  thirteen  she  knew 
— in  addition  to  Latin — Greek,  Hebrew,  French,  Spanish, 
German,  and  several  other  languages,  and  was  so  re- 
nowned for  her  linguistic  attainments  that  she  was  called, 
familiarly,  the  "  walking  polyglot."  When  she  was  fifteen, 
her  father  began  to  invite  the  most  learned  men  of  Bologna 
to  assemble  at  his  house  and  listen  to  her  essays  and  dis- 
cussions upon  the  most  difficult  philosophical  problems;  in 


SEVENTEENTH  AND  EIGHTEENTH  CENTURIES        193 

spite  of  the  fact  that  this  display  of  her  learning  was 
known  to  be  distasteful  to  the  young  girl,  it  was  not  until 
she  reached  her  twentieth  year  that  she  was  allowed  to 
withdraw  from  society.  In  welcome  seclusion,  she  de- 
voted herself  to  the  study  of  mathematics,  and  published 
several  mathematical  works  whose  value  is  still  recognized. 
In  1752  her  father  fell  ill,  and,  by  Pope  Benedict  XIV., 
Gaetana  was  appointed  to  occupy  his  professorial  chair, 
which  she  did  with  distinction.  At  her  father's  death,  two 
years  later,  she  withdrew  from  this  active  career;  and 
after  a  most  careful  study  of  theology,  she  satisfied  a  long- 
cherished  wish  and  entered  a  convent,  joining  the  Order  of 
Blue  Nuns,  at  Milan.  She  was  most  actively  interested  in 
hospital  work  and  charities  of  all  kinds,  and,  as  her  death 
did  not  occur  until  1799,  lived  a  long  life  of  usefulness. 


Italian  JSiHomen  in  tije  Nineteenth 
fflenturg 


XI 

ITALIAN  WOMEN  IN  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY 

AFTER  the  torpor  and  stagnation  of  the  last  two  centuries, 
after  the  self-abasement  of  the  people,  and  the  apparent 
extinction  of  all  spirit  of  national  pride,  the  French  inva- 
sion and  domination,  under  the  stern  rule  of  Bonaparte, 
was  a  rude  awakening.  Old  boundaries  were  swept  aside, 
old  traditions  were  disregarded,  old  rulers  were  dethroned; 
everywhere  were  the  French,  with  their  Republican 
banners,  mouthing  the  great  words  Liberty,  Equality,  and 
Fraternity,  ravaging  and  plundering  in  the  most  shameless 
fashion,  and  extorting  the  most  exorbitant  taxes.  But 
the  contagion  spread — the  Italians  were  impressed  with  the 
wonderful  exploits  of  the  one-time  Corsican  corporal,  and 
they,  in  turn,  began  to  wag  their  heads  in  serious  discus- 
sion of  the  "  rights  of  man,"  as  the  French  had  done  a 
decade  before.  For  the  dissemination  of  the  new  ideas, 
political  clubs  were  organized  throughout  Italy  as  they  had 
existed  in  France,  and  the  whole  country  was  in  ferment. 
Add  to  that  the  fact  that  Napoleon  began  to  levy  troops  in 
Italy  as  soon  as  his  position  warranted  this  action,  and 
that  soon  Italian  soldiers  were  in  all  parts  of  Europe 
fighting  under  the  French  flag,  and  one  can  perhaps  have 
some  picture  of  the  complete  way  in  which  French  in- 
fluences were  made  to  prevail.  In  this  conquered  terri- 
tory the  population  may  be  divided  into  three  classes:  first, 
the  deposed  nobility,  who  had  for  the  most  part  left  the 

197 


198  WOMAN 

country;  second,  the  middle  class,  composed  of  professional 
men  and  the  wealthier  citizens;  and  third,  the  common 
people.  Of  these  three  classes,  the  second  was  the  one 
which  Napoleon  tried  in  every  way  to  conciliate,  for  he 
counted  upon  its  aid  in  the  moulding  of  public  opinion. 
He  had  little  to  do  with  the  departed  nobility,  the  common 
people  were  helping  him  fight  his  battles,  but,  if  he  hoped 
to  occupy  Italy  permanently,  his  real  appeal  had  to  be 
made  to  the  educated  class.  Accordingly,  the  arts  of 
peace  were  used  in  the  interests  of  the  god  of  war;  public 
improvements  of  all  kinds  were  begun  over  all  Italy,  under 
the  supervision  of  the  French  officials,  canals  were  built, 
marshes  were  drained,  academies  of  learning  were  founded, 
commerce  was  stimulated,  schools  for  girls  were  started  at 
Milan,  Bologna,  and  Verona  in  imitation  of  those  which 
had  already  been  established  in  France,  and,  in  fact, 
everything  was  done  to  prove  to  the  people  that  the  rule 
of  the  French  was  beneficial  to  the  best  interests  of  the 
peninsula.  Many  men  of  letters  were  won  over  by  fair 
promises,  and  scientific  men  were,  in  many  instances,  so 
aided  in  their  researches  and  so  loaded  with  honors  that  it 
was  difficult  to  resist  the  approaches  of  the  emperor;  and 
there  resulted  much  fulsome  praise  in  honor  of  Napoleon, 
who  was  hailed  as  a  veritable  god.  Some  there  were, 
however,  who  resisted  the  advances  of  the  conquerors  and 
were  loath  to  see  the  country  so  completely  in  the  control 
of  a  foreign  nation.  It  is  true  that  Italy  was  enjoying  a 
great  prosperity  in  spite  of  the  demands  made  upon  it  by 
the  French,  but  this  sudden  accession  of  Republican  ideas 
and  the  consciousness  that  Italian  armies  were  fighting 
bravely  all  over  the  continent  had  aroused  a  national  spirit 
which  had  lain  dormant  for  centuries;  the  more  far-seeing 
patriots  were  already  looking  forward  to  a  time  when  Italy 
might  be  not  only  free  but  independent. 


ITALIAN  WOMEN  IN  THE   NINETEENTH  CENTURY    199 

Among  those  unmoved  by  French  promises  were  a 
number  of  brilliant  women,  who  were  outspoken  in  their 
hostility,  and  who  gathered  about  them  many  of  the  most 
able  men  of  the  time.  Though  it  is  true  that  the  French 
set  the  fashions,  and  in  every  city  it  was  usual  to  find  that 
the  French  officials  were  eagerly  courted  by  the  inhabit- 
ants, it  is  none  the  less  true  that  in  many  of  these  cities 
there  was  some  small  but  active  centre  of  opposition,  the 
salon  of  some  gifted  woman  who  was  working  might  and 
main  for  the  final  triumph  of  the  principle  of  Italian  con- 
trol in  Italy.  Napoleon  had  penetration  enough  to  take 
such  opposition  at  its  just  valuation.  Women  had  already 
given  him  many  a  mauvais  quart  d'heure  in  Paris;  Madame 
de  Stae'l  and,  later,  the  beautiful  Madame  Recamier  were 
forced  to  go  into  exile  because  he  feared  their  power,  and 
here  in  Italy  he  resolved  not  to  be  caught  napping.  Among 
the  number  of  these  Italian  women  who  were  daring 
enough  to  oppose  his  success,  one  of  the  most  influential 
and  best  known  was  the  Countess  Cicognara.  Her  hus- 
band, Count  Leopold  Cicognara,  was  an  archaeologist  of 
some  reputation,  who  is  to-day  best  known  by  his  Storia 
delta  Scultura;  he  was  precisely  the  type  of  man  whose 
friendship  and  good  will  Napoleon  was  anxious  to  obtain. 
Cicognara  kept  his  distance,  however,  and  in  his  deter- 
mination to  hold  himself  aloof  from  all  actual  participation 
in  the  new  order  of  things  he  was  ably  seconded  by  his 
wife,  who  was  a  most  ardent  partisan.  In  Milan  her  salon 
was  known  to  be  of  the  opposition,  and  there  gathered  all 
the  malcontents,  ready  to  criticise  and  blame,  and  wholly 
refusing  their  aid  in  any  public  matters  undertaken  under 
French  auspices.  Here,  at  Milan,  Madame  de  Stae'l  came 
to  know  the  countess  in  the  course  of  her  wanderings 
through  Italy,  and,  as  may  readily  be  imagined,  the  two 
women  were  much  drawn  to  each  other  by  reason  of 


200  WOMAN 

their  similar  tastes,  especially  with  regard  to  the  political 
situation.  Later,  at  Venice,  the  Countess  Cicognara  was 
again  the  centre  of  a  group  of  free-thinkers,  and  there  it 
was  that  she  first  felt  the  displeasure  of  Napoleon.  The 
count  had  been  summoned  by  him  in  the  hope  that  he 
might  finally  be  won  over,  but  Cicognara  conducted  him- 
self with  such  dignity  that  he  excited  no  little  admiration 
for  his  position  of  strict  neutrality;  his  wife  did  not  fare 
so  well,  inasmuch  as  she  was  harshly  criticised  for  her 
active  partisanship.  Also,  Napoleon  caused  it  to  be  known 
that  he  would  look  with  disfavor  upon  all  who  continued 
to  frequent  the  salon  of  the  countess;  the  result  of  this 
procedure  was  that  of  those  who  had  formerly  thronged 
her  doors  but  two  faithful  ones  remained — Hippolyte  Pin- 
demonte  and  Carlo  Rosmini,  both  staunch  patriots  and 
men  of  ability. 

After  Waterloo  and  the  fall  of  Napoleon,  the  French 
power  in  Italy  was  gone,  and  the  Congress  of  Vienna, 
which  arranged  the  terms  of  peace  for  the  allied  powers  of 
Europe,  restored  the  Italian  states  to  their  original  condition, 
as  they  were  before  the  Revolution.  But  the  real  condi- 
tions of  Italian  life  were  changed;  for  the  people  were  now 
aroused  in  an  unprecedented  way,  which  made  a  return  to 
the  old  mode  of  life  impossible  except  in  the  outward  form 
of  things.  The  socialistic  ideas  of  the  French  had  gained 
some  foothold  in  Italy;  men  and  women  were  waking  up 
to  the  possibilities  which  lay  before  them  in  the  way  of 
helping  each  other;  and  charitable  and  philanthropic  works 
of  every  kind  were  undertaken  with  an  interest  which 
was  altogether  uncommon.  As  might  be  expected,  women 
occupied  an  important  place  in  these  various  activities  and 
showed  much  enterprise  and  zeal  in  carrying  out  their 
plans.  The  Marchioness  Maddalena  Frescobaldi  Capponi 
aided  in  founding  at  Florence  a  house  of  refuge  for  fallen 


ITALIAN  WOMEN   IN  THE   NINETEENTH  CENTURY    2OI 

women;  Maria  Maddalena  di  Canossa,  in  the  year  1819, 
established  at  Venice  and  at  Verona  the  Order  of  the 
Daughters  of  Charity,  whose  task  it  was  to  perfect  them- 
selves in  "love  to  God  and  love  to  man";  and  various 
charitable  schools  were  organized  in  other  parts  of  the 
country.  At  Turin,  Julie  Colbert  di  Barolo,  the  friend  of 
the  famous  Silvio  Pellico,  founded  the  Order  of  the  Sisters 
of  Saint  Anne,  whose  members  were  to  devote  themselves 
to  the  education  of  poor  girls,  training  them  not  only  in 
the  usual  studies,  but  also  in  manners  and  deportment, 
and  teaching  them  to  be  contented  with  their  lot,  whatever 
it  might  happen  to  be.  The  spirit  of  arts  and  crafts  had 
ardent  supporters  at  this  time,  and  many  endeavors  were 
made  to  teach  the  people  how  to  do  something  which 
might  be  of  avail  in  their  struggle  for  life.  Among  those 
interested  in  this  movement  was  Rosa  Govona,  who  had 
founded  a  society  whose  members  were  called,  after  her, 
Les  Rosines,  and  who  were  bound  to  support  themselves 
by  means  of  their  own  work.  The  Napoleonic  campaigns 
had  taken  from  Italy  many  men  who  never  returned;  thus, 
there  were  many  women  who  were  left  to  their  own  re- 
sources, and  it  was  for  this  class  that  Rosa  Govona  was 
working.  The  society  grew  rapidly,  branch  organizations 
were  established  in  many  cities,  and  there  is  no  doubt 
that  the  movement  was  productive  of  much  good.  Another 
woman  philanthropist  of  this  time  was  the  Countess  Tar- 
melli  Bellini,  who  left  quite  a  large  sum  of  money  at  No- 
vara  for  the  establishment  of  several  charitable  institutions, 
among  them  an  industrial  school. 

Rome  now  became  the  real  centre  of  Italian  life;  it 
was  the  objective  point  of  every  tourist,  and  it  soon 
gathered  together  a  somewhat  heterogeneous  population 
which  was  to  pave  the  way  for  that  cosmopolitan  society 
which  is  to-day  found  in  the  Eternal  City.  While  this 


202  WOMAN 

foreign  element  was  growing  more  important  every  day, 
it  cannot  be  said  that  the  members  of  the  old  and  proud 
Roman  nobility  looked  upon  it  with  any  smile  of  welcome. 
Many  of  the  newcomers  were  artists,  sculptors  and  paint- 
ers, who  were  attracted  by  the  wealth  of  classic  and 
Renaissance  art  which  Rome  contained,  or  they  were  ex- 
patriates for  one  of  a  number  of  reasons.  One  of  the 
most  distinguished  women  of  this  foreign  colony  was  Ma- 
dame Bonaparte,  Napoleon's  mother,  who  took  up  her 
residence  in  Rome  after  1815,  and  lived  there  until  1836, 
the  year  of  her  death.  She  was  a  woman  of  fine  presence 
and  great  courage,  content  with  a  simple  mode  of  life 
which  was  quite  in  contrast  with  the  princely  tastes  of 
her  sons  and  daughters.  Pauline  Bonaparte,  the  emperor's 
favorite  sister,  had  lived  in  Rome  for  a  number  of  years, 
as  she  had  married,  in  1803,  Camillo,  Prince  Borghese. 
She  was  soon  separated  from  her  husband,  but  continued 
to  reside  in  Rome,  bearing  the  title  of  Duchess  of  Guas- 
talla;  there  she  was  housed  in  a  fine  palace,  where  she 
dwelt  in  a  style  of  easy  magnificence.  Pauline  was  one 
of  the  most  beautiful  women  of  this  time,  and  much  of  her 
charm  and  grace  has  been  preserved  in  Canova's  famous 
statue,  the  Venus  Victrix,  for  which  she  served  as  model. 
The  most  hospitable  palace  in  all  Rome  during  the  first 
quarter  of  the  century  was  that  presided  over  by  Signora 
Torlonia,  Duchess  of  Bracciano.  Her  husband,  "old  Tor- 
Ionia,"  as  he  was  familiarly  called,  was  a  banker  during 
the  working  hours  of  the  day;  but  in  the  evening  he 
became  the  Duke  of  Bracciano,  and  no  one  questioned 
his  right  to  the  title,  as  he  was  known  to  have  paid  good 
money  for  it.  He  had  made  princes  of  his  sons  and  noble 
ladies  of  his  daughters,  and  his  great  wealth  had  undoubt- 
edly aided  his  plans.  Madame  Lenormant  says  of  him: 
"  he  was  avaricious  as  a  Jew,  and  sumptuous  as  the  most 


ITALIAN  WOMEN   IN  THE   NINETEENTH   CENTURY    203 

magnificent  grand  seigneur,"  and  he  seems  to  have  been 
a  most  interesting  character.  He  lived  in  a  beautiful  pal- 
ace upon  the  Corso,  wherein  was  placed  Canova's  Hercules 
and  Lycas,  and  there  he  and  his  wife  dispensed  a  most 
open-handed  hospitality.  Madame  Torlonia  had  been  a 
beauty  in  her  day,  and  she  was  a  very  handsome  woman 
«ven  in  her  later  years.  Kind  and  good-natured,  she  was 
like  the  majority  of  Italian  women  of  her  time — a  curious 
combination  of  devotion  and  gallantry.  It  is  related  of  her 
that  she  confided  to  a  friend  one  day  that  she  had  taken 
great  care  to  prevent  her  husband's  peace  of  mind  from 
being  disturbed  by  her  somewhat  questionable  conduct, 
and  then  added:  "But  he  will  be  very  much  surprised 
when  the  Day  of  Judgment  comes!"  The  Torlonia  palace 
was  practically  the  only  princely  house  open  to  strangers, 
and  it  often  sheltered  a  most  distinguished  company. 
Among  those  who  were  entertained  there  may  be  included 
Thorwaldsen,  the  great  Danish  sculptor,  Madame  Reca- 
mier,  Chateaubriand,  Canova,  Horace  Vernet,  the  French 
painter,  and  his  charming  daughter  Louise,  and  the  great 
musician  Mendelssohn.  The  last,  in  a  letter  written  from 
Rome  in  1831,  makes  the  following  allusion  to  the  Torlo- 
nias,  which  is  not  without  interest:  "  Last  night  a  theatre 
that  Torlonia  [the  son]  has  undertaken  and  organized 
was  opened  with  a  new  opera  of  Pacini's.  The  crowd  was 
great  and  every  box  filled  with  handsome,  well-dressed 
people;  young  Torlonia  appeared  in  a  stage  box,  with  his 
mother,  the  old  duchess,  and  they  were  immensely  ap- 
plauded. The  audience  called  out:  Bravo,  Torlonia,  gra^ie, 
gra^ie!" 

Italy  had  continued  its  reputation  as  the  home  of  music, 
and  now,  as  in  the  eighteenth  century,  Italian  singers, 
men  and  women,  were  wearing  the  laurel  in  all  the  capitals 
of  Europe.  Among  the  women  who  were  thus  celebrated 


204  WOMAN 

the  best  known  were  Grassini,  Catalan!,  Pasta,  and  Alboni. 
Grassini  was  the  daughter  of  a  Lombardy  farmer,  and  the 
expenses  of  her  musical  education  had  been  defrayed  by 
General  Belgioso,  who  was  much  impressed  with  her  won- 
derful voice  and  her  charm  of  manner.  Her  debut  at 
La  Scala  was  a  wonderful  success  in  spite  of  the  fact  that 
she  then  sang  in  company  with  the  two  greatest  Italian 
singers  of  the  time,  Crescentini — one  of  the  last  of  the 
male  sopranos — and  Marches! .  Later,  she  attracted  the 
attention  of  Bonaparte,  and  soon  accompanied  him  to  Paris, 
anxious,  it  has  been  said,  to  play  the  role  of  Cleopatra  to 
this  modern  Csesar.  Josephine's  jealousy  was  aroused 
more  than  once  by  this  song  bird  of  Italy,  but  she  con- 
tinued in  the  emperor's  good  graces  for  a  number  of  years, 
in  spite  of  the  fact  that  she  was  ever  ready  to  follow  the 
whim  of  the  moment  and  distributed  her  favors  quite  pro- 
miscuously. In  1804  she  was  made  directress  of  the  Paris 
Opera,  and  some  years  after,  returning  from  a  most  won- 
derful London  engagement,  she  sang  in  Romeo  and  Juliet 
with  such  effect  that  the  usually  impassive  Napoleon  sprang 
to  his  feet,  shouting  like  a  schoolboy;  the  next  day,  as  a 
testimonial  of  his  appreciation,  he  sent  her  a  check  for 
twenty  thousand  francs. 

Angelica  Catalani  first  created  a  stir  in  the  world  at  the 
age  of  twelve,  when,  as  a  novice  in  the  convent  of  Santa 
Lucia  at  Gubbio,  in  the  duchy  of  Urbino,  she  sang  for  the 
daily  service  in  the  little  chapel  with  such  amazing  sweet- 
ness that  people  came  from  all  the  neighborhood  to  listen 
to  her.  After  some  preliminary  training,  which  was  under- 
taken without  the  entire  approval  of  the  girl's  father, 
Angelica  was  confided  to  the  care  of  the  great  teacher 
Marchesi,  who  soon  put  her  in  the  front  rank  of  singers. 
Her  success  upon  the  stage  was  unquestioned,  and  her 
voice  was  one  of  the  most  remarkable  in  all  the  history  of 


ITALIAN  WOMEN   IN  THE   NINETEENTH   CENTURY    2O$ 

music,  being  a  pure  soprano,  with  a  compass  of  nearly 
three  octaves, — from  G  to  F, — and  so  clear  and  powerful 
that  it  rose  fresh,  penetrating,  and  triumphant  above  the 
music  of  any  band  or  orchestra  which  might  be  playing 
her  accompaniment.  Bell-like  in  quality  and  ever  true, 
this  voice  lacked  feeling,  and  while  it  never  failed  to  awaken 
unbounded  enthusiasm,  it  rarely,  if  ever,  brought  a  thrill 
of  deeper  emotion. 

Giuditta  Pasta,  who  became  the  lyric  Siddons  of  her 
age,  began  her  career  as  an  artist  laboring  under  many 
disadvantages,  for  she  lacked  a  graceful  personality  and 
possessed  a  voice  of  but  moderate  power  and  sweetness. 
One  thing  she  did  possess  in  full  measure,  however,  and 
that  was  an  artistic  temperament,  which,  combined  with 
her  unbounded  ambition  and  her  ability  for  hard  work, 
soon  brought  her  public  recognition.  Her  simple  but  effect- 
ive manner  of  singing  and  her  wonderful  histrionic  ability 
made  all  her  work  dignified  and  impressive;  her  representa- 
tion of  the  character  of  Medea,  in  Simon  Mayer's  opera  by 
that  name,  has  been  called  the  "grandest  lyric  impersona- 
tion in  the  records  of  art."  When  the  great  actor  Talma 
heard  her  in  the  days  of  her  early  success  in  Paris,  he 
said:  "Here  is  a  woman  of  whom  I  can  still  learn.  One 
turn  of  her  beautiful  head,  one  glance  of  her  eye,  one  light 
motion  of  her  hand,  is,  with  her,  sufficient  to  express  a 
passion."  The  whole  continent  was  at  her  feet — London, 
Paris,  Berlin,  St.  Petersburg,  and  Vienna  showered  her 
with  their  bravas  and  their  gifts,  and  her  native  Italy  went 
wild  at  her  approach.  Her  last  great  public  performance 
was  at  Milan  in  1832,  when,  in  company  with  Donizetti 
the  tenor  and  the  then  inexperienced  Giulia  Grisi,  she 
sang  the  role  of  Norma,  in  Bellini's  opera,  which  was  then 
given  for  the  first  time  under  the  baton  of  the  composer 
himself.  Alboni,  the  wonderful  contralto  who  owed  her 


206  WOMAN 

early  advancement  and  training  to  the  kindly  interest  of 
Rossini,  Fanny  Persiani,  the  daughter  of  the  hunchback 
tenor,  Tacchinardi,  who  through  her  singing  did  more  than 
any  other  artist  to  make  the  music  of  Donizetti  popular 
throughout  Europe — these  and  a  number  of  other  names 
might  be  mentioned  to  show  that  Italy  was  now  the  foun- 
tain head  of  song,  as  in  the  Renaissance  it  had  been  the 
home  of  the  other  fine  arts. 

This  account  of  the  triumphs  of  Italian  women  upon  the 
continental  stage  would  be  wholly  incomplete  without  some 
reference  to  the  incomparable  danseuse  La  Taglioni,  who 
will  always  occupy  an  important  place  in  the  annals  of 
Terpsichore.  Without  great  personal  charm,  her  success 
was  due  to  her  wonderful  skill,  which  was  the  result  of 
the  mercilessly  severe  training  that  she  had  received 
from  her  father,  Filippo  Taglioni,  who  was  a  ballet  master 
of  some  repute.  Born  at  Stockholm,  where  her  father 
was  employed  at  the  Royal  Opera,  she  made  her  debut 
at  Vienna,  where  she  created  an  immediate  sensation. 
Hitherto  ballet  dancing  had  been  somewhat  realistic  and 
voluptuous,  as  illustrated  by  the  performances  of  the  cele- 
brated Madame  Vestris,  but  La  Taglioni  put  poetry  and 
imagination  into  her  work,  which  was  more  ideal  in  char- 
acter, and  her  supremacy  was  soon  unquestioned.  Among 
her  most  remarkable  performances  was  the  dancing  of 
the  Tyrolienne  in  Guillaume  Tell,  and  of  the  pas  de  fasci- 
nation in  Robert  le  Diable.  In  this  mid-century  period 
dancing  occupied  a  far  more  important  place  in  opera  than 
it  has  since,  but  with  the  retirement  of  La  Taglioni,  in 
1845,  the  era  of  grand  ballets  came  practically  to  an  end. 
About  her  work  there  seems  to  have  been  a  subtle  charm 
which  no  other  modern  danseuse  has  ever  possessed, 
and  her  admirers  were  to  be  found  in  all  ranks  of 
society.  Balzac  often  mentions  her,  and  Thackeray  says 


ITALIAN  WOMEN  IN  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY    2O/ 

in  The  Newcomes  that  the  young  men  of  the  epoch  "will 
never  see  anything  so  graceful  as  Taglioni  in  La  Sylphide." 
With  the  final  accomplishment  of  Italian  unity  and  the 
establishment  of  the  court  at  Rome,  there  began  a  new 
life  for  the  whole  country,  wherein  the  position  of  the  ruling 
family  was  decidedly  difficult.  At  the  outset  there  was 
the  opposition  of  the  Vatican,  for  the  pope  was  unwilling 
to  accept  the  inevitable  and  relinquish  his  temporal  power 
with  good  grace;  and  there  was  the  greater  problem,  per- 
haps, of  moulding  into  one  nationality  the  various  peoples 
of  the  peninsula.  Neapolitans  and  Milanese,  Venetians 
and  Romans,  were  all  so  many  different  races,  so  far  as 
their  history  and  traditions  were  concerned,  and  the  task  of 
making  them  all  Italians — which  had  been  put  upon  the 
house  of  Savoy — was  fraught  with  much  danger.  It  is 
too  early  yet  to  know  with  what  complete  success  this 
work  will  be  crowned,  but  it  may  be  safely  said  that 
Queen  Margharita,  wife  of  Humbert  I.,  did  much  to  bring 
about  that  general  spirit  of  good  will  which  has  thus  far 
been  characteristic  of  united  Italy.  Owing  to  the  pecul- 
iar conditions  of  the  situation,  and  the  strong  local  spirit 
which  still  endures  everywhere,  it  was  soon  found  that  all 
Italy  would  be  slow  in  coming  to  the  court  at  Rome,  and 
so  the  court  decided  to  go  to  the  country.  Royal  villas 
are  scattered  through  the  different  provinces,  and  it  is 
customary  for  the  king  and  his  suite  to  visit  them  with 
some  frequency.  During  all  this  perambulating  court  life, 
Queen  Margharita  became  a  popular  favorite,  in  no  less 
degree  than  the  king,  and  their  democratic  ways  soon 
gained  the  love  and  esteem  of  the  people  in  general.  The 
following  incident  will  show  to  what  extent  the  queen  was 
interested  in  the  welfare  of  her  subjects  and  what  she 
was  able  to  accomplish  by  means  of  her  ready  wit.  Cer- 
tain towns  along  the  coast  had  become  very  prosperous 


208  WOMAN 

through  the  manufacture  of  coral  ornaments  of  various 
kinds,  and  large  numbers  of  women  were  given  lucrative 
employment  in  this  work  until,  slowly,  coral  began  to  go 
out  of  fashion,  and  then  the  industry  commenced  to  dimin- 
ish in  importance.  It  became,  in  fact,  practically  extinct, 
and  so  great  was  the  misery  caused  by  the  lack  of  work 
that  the  attention  of  the  queen  was  called  to  this  pitiful 
situation.  Instantly,  by  personal  gifts,  she  relieved  the 
pressure  of  the  moment,  and  then  by  deliberately  wearing 
coral  ornaments  in  a  most  conspicuous  way  she  restored 
their  popularity  and  at  the  same  time  brought  back  pros- 
perity to  the  stricken  villages.  Since  the  death  of  King 
Humbert,  Margharita  has  naturally  lived  somewhat  more 
in  retirement,  but  she  has  ever  shown  herself  to  be  most 
eager  to  do  everything  for  her  people  and  especially  for 
the  women  of  Italy.  Much  progress  in  educational  affairs 
has  been  brought  about  through  her  influence;  and  to  show 
her  interest  in  the  movement  for  the  physical  training  of 
women,  which  is  slowly  taking  form,  she  has  recently 
joined  an  Alpine  club,  and  has  done  not  a  little  mountain 
climbing  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  she  is  no  longer  in  the 
first  bloom  of  youth. 

The  present  queen,  Helena  of  Montenegro,  is  beginning 
to  enjoy  the  same  popularity,  and  there  is  every  reason  to 
believe  that  her  reign  will  continue,  in  a  most  worthy  way, 
the  traditions  left  by  her  predecessor.  The  conditions 
attending  the  marriage  of  the  heir  apparent  when  he  was 
yet  the  Prince  of  Naples  were  such  indeed  as  to  win  the 
sympathy  and  approval  of  the  whole  nation.  Before  this 
marriage,  Crispi,  the  Italian  premier,  had  tried  to  arrange  for 
the  young  prince  a  match  which  might  have  some  political 
significance,  and  to  this  end  he  collected  the  photographs 
of  all  the  eligible  princesses  of  Europe,  put  them  together 
in  a  beautiful  album,  and  told  his  young  master  to  look 


ITALIAN  WOMEN  IN  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY    209 

them  over  and  select  a  wife  for  himself.  The  prince  gazed 
at  them  with  but  languid  interest,  however,  for  these  royal 
maidens  were,  most  of  them,  strangers  to  him;  he  finally 
announced  to  the  astonished  minister  that  he  did  not  intend 
to  marry  until  he  found  a  woman  he  loved!  In  this  reso- 
lution he  was  not  to  be  shaken,  and  the  Princess  Helena, 
whom  he  made  his  wife,  he  saw  for  the  first  time  at  the 
czar's  coronation  ceremonies  at  Moscow,  and  it  was  a  simple 
case  of  love  at  first  sight.  Such  simplicity  and  sincerity 
as  are  apparent  in  this  real  affection  of  the  king  and  queen 
for  each  other  cannot  fail  to  have  a  widespread  influence. 

The  modern  Italian  woman  is  not  an  easy  person  to 
describe,  as  it  would  be  difficult  to  find  one  who  might 
serve  as  a  type  for  all  the  rest.  In  general,  it  may  be 
said  that  they  are  not  so  well  educated  as  the  women  in 
many  other  countries,  and  that  so  long  as  a  woman  is 
devout,  and  at  the  same  time  domestic  in  her  tastes,  she 
is  considered  to  possess  the  most  essential  requisites  of 
character  and  attainment.  The  women  of  the  peasant 
class  work  in  the  fields  with  the  men;  in  the  towns  and 
cities  women  help  in  their  husbands'  shops,  as  in  France, 
and  while  they  may  not  always  possess  the  energy  and 
business  skill  which  characterize  the  French  women,  they 
are  at  least  no  more  indolent  and  easy-going  than  their 
male  companions.  The  women  of  the  nobility  are  often 
less  educated  than  their  plebeian  sisters,  and  for  the  most 
part  lead  a  very  narrow  and  petty  existence,  which  pro- 
duces little  but  vanity  and  selfishness  and  discontent. 
There  are  exceptions,  however,  and  here  and  there  may 
be  seen  a  gentlewoman  who  has  studied  and  travelled,  and 
made  herself  not  only  a  social  but  also  an  intellectual 
leader  of  distinction. 

From  a  legal  standpoint,  the  position  of  women  differs  in 
the  various  provinces,  for,  while  the  written  law  may  be 


2IO  WOMAN 

the  same  throughout  the  kingdom,  local  customs  are  often 
widely  divergent.  Villari,  in  his  recent  book  on  Italian 
life,  says  that  a  woman's  property  is  guaranteed  to  her  by 
law  from  any  abuse  on  her  husband's  part;  she  has  equal 
rights  of  inheritance  with  her  brothers,  if  her  parents  have 
made  no  will;  and  there  are  few  cases  in  which  her  rights 
are  inferior  to  those  of  her  male  relatives.  Also,  the 
woman  is  considered  the  natural  and  legal  guardian  of  her 
children,  after  the  death  of  her  husband.  In  spite  of  this 
legal  equality,  the  old  idea  of  woman's  inferior  position 
still  crops  out,  and  it  is  noticeable  that  a  father,  in  be- 
queathing his  property,  rarely  leaves  it  to  his  daughters, 
but  rather  to  his  sons,  and  often  to  the  eldest  son  alone,  as 
in  the  old  feudal  days.  Social  conventions  are  not  unlike 
those  of  other  southern  countries.  For  the  majority  of 
women  marriage  is  the  one  aim  in  life,  and  an  unmar- 
ried woman  is  shown  little  consideration  and  is  the  butt  of 
much  ridicule.  In  the  northern  part  of  Italy,  women  are 
gaining  a  certain  amount  of  liberty  in  these  latter  days, 
and  young  girls  of  the  better  class  may,  without  causing 
much  comment,  go  upon  the  street  unattended.  In  the 
south,  however,  the  position  of  women  is  very  different, 
and  they  are  still  regarded  in  much  the  same  way  as  are 
the  women  of  Oriental  countries.  The  long  years  of  Sara- 
cen rule  are  responsible  for  this  condition,  which  makes  the 
woman  little  more  than  the  slave  of  her  husband.  It  is 
said  that  in  some  country  districts  it  is  the  custom  for 
the  husband  to  lock  his  wife  in  the  house  whenever  he 
goes  from  home,  and  the  usage  is  so  well  established  that 
if  the  ceremony  is  omitted  the  woman  is  inclined  to  think 
that  some  slight  is  intended. 

With  regard  to  the  education  of  women,  the  law  makes 
no  distinction  between  the  sexes,  and  practically  all  schools, 
classical  and  technical,  under  government  control,  and  the 


ITALIAN  WOMEN  IN  THE   NINETEENTH  CENTURY    211 

universities,  are  open  to  both  men  and  women.  Special 
schools,  both  public  and  private,  have  been  established 
exclusively  for  women,  but  they  are  not  the  rule.  With 
regard  to  matters  of  attendance,  statistics  show  that  the 
proportion  of  women  is  larger  in  the  universities  than  in 
the  preparatory  schools.  As  yet,  the  legal  profession  is 
not  open  to  women  practitioners,  but  many  have  pursued 
the  study  of  medicine,  and  there  are  several  who  enjoy  a 
large  and  lucrative  practice.  With  all  these  advantages, 
the  ordinary  woman  in  Italy  to-day  rarely  possesses  what 
we  would  call  an  ordinary  education,  and  there  is  abso- 
lutely no  public  opinion  in  favor  of  it.  There  are  frequent 
bluestockings,  it  is  true,  but  they  have  no  influence  with 
the  public,  and  are  showing  themselves  entirely  ineffectual 
in  forcing  public  opinion  in  this  regard. 

Though  the  great  singers  seem  to  come  from  Germany 
in  these  modern  days,  Italy  has  held  a  distinguished  place 
upon  the  boards  for  the  last  half-century  by  reason  of  its 
great  tragic  actresses,  Adelaide  Ristori  and  Eleonora  Duse. 
Ristori  was  beginning  her  career  in  the  fifties  when  she 
went  to  Paris,  where  the  great  Rachel  was  in  the  very 
midst  of  her  triumph;  and  there  in  the  French  capital,  in 
the  very  face  of  bitter  rivalry,  she  was  able  to  prove 
her  ability  and  make  a  name  for  herself.  Later,  in  the 
United  States  she  met  with  a  most  flattering  reception, 
and  for  a  season  played  with  Edwin  Booth  in  the  Shake- 
spearean repertoire.  Duse  first  came  into  public  notice 
about  1895,  when  her  wonderful  emotional  power  at  once 
caused  critics  to  compare  her  to  Bernhardt,  and  not  always 
to  the  advantage  of  the  great  French  tragedienne.  At  one 
period  her  name  became  linked  most  unpleasantly  with 
that  of  the  young  Italian  realist  Gabriele  d'Annunzio. 

In  modern  Italian  literature  two  women  stand  out  con- 
spicuously— Matilda  Serao  and  Ada  Negri.  The  Signora 


212  WOMAN 

Serao,  who  began  life  as  a  journalist,  is  to-day  the  fore- 
most woman  writer  of  fiction  in  Italy,  and  her  novels, 
which  are  almost  without  exception  devoted  to  the  delinea- 
tion of  Neapolitan  life,  are  quite  graphic  and  interesting, 
though  her  literary  taste  is  not  always  good  and  she  some- 
times lapses  into  the  commonplace  and  the  vulgar.  Also, 
she  inclines  somewhat  toward  the  melodramatic,  and,  like 
many  of  her  brothers  in  literature,  she  is  far  from  free 
from  what  may  best  be  termed  "  cheap  sentiment."  Ada 
Negri,  who  started  in  her  career  as  a  modest  school  teacher 
in  Lombardy,  is  a  lyric  poet  of  no  mean  ability.  She  has 
taken  up  the  cudgel  for  the  poor  and  the  weak  and  the 
oppressed,  and  so  thorough  and  genuine  are  her  apprecia- 
tion and  understanding  of  the  life  of  the  people,  that  she 
seems  to  have  touched  many  hearts.  Singing  as  she  does 
of  the  hard  lot  of  the  poor,  and  of  the  many  struggles  of 
life,  it  is  appropriate  that  the  two  volumes  of  her  verses 
which  have  appeared  up  to  this  time  should  bear  the  titles 
Fatalita  and  Tempeste. 

Many  other  women  have  acquired  honored  positions  in 
literature,  and  woman's  increased  activity  and  prominence 
in  all  intellectual  branches  is  a  condition  which  may  well 
excite  wonder.  While  from  many  points  of  view  unfortu- 
nately backward,  the  women  of  Italy  are  beginning  to  realize 
their  more  serious  possibilities,  and  it  is  safe  to  say  that 
the  more  advanced  ideas  regarding  woman's  work  and  her 
position  in  society,  which  come  as  the  inevitable  conse- 
quence of  modern  civilization  and  education,  will  soon  bear 
fruit  here  as  in  other  parts  of  the  continent. 


Sliomen 


adapter 

ffionfcttton  of  Spain  before  tfte 
Inbaston 


XII 


THE   CONDITION   OF  SPAIN   BEFORE   THE 
MOORISH   INVASION 

TO  one  whose  fancy  roves  to  Spain  in  his  dream  of  fair 
women  there  comes  at  once  the  picture  of  a  dark-eyed 
beauty  gazing  out  discreetly  from  behind  her  lattice  win- 
dow, listening  to  the  tinkling  sound  of  her  lover's  mando- 
lin, and  sighing  at  the  ardor  of  his  passion;  or  again,  she 
may  be  going  abroad,  with  lace  mantilla  about  her  shapely 
head,  armed  with  her  fan, — that  article  of  comfort  and 
coquetry,  as  it  has  been  called, — which  is  at  once  a  shield 
and  an  allurement  as  wielded  by  her  deft  fingers.  With 
the  thought  of  Spain  there  comes  also  the  snap  of  the 
castanets  and  the  flash  of  bright-colored  skirts  as  they 
move  in  time  to  the  tarantella.  All  in  all,  it  is  the  poet's 
land  of  beauty  and  pleasure,  music  and  the  dance,  with 
Dolce  far  niente  as  its  motto,  rose-entwined. 

Free  from  the  poet's  spell,  however,  and  under  the 
guidance  of  the  sterner  muse  of  history,  this  picture  of 
sweet  content  vanishes  for  a  time  as  the  more  rugged  out- 
lines of  another  and  an  earlier  age  attract  our  attention. 
Fact  and  conjecture  are  somewhat  intermingled  as  they 
concern  the  early  history  of  Spain,  but  enough  is  known 
to  give  us  a  fairly  clear  idea  of  the  general  condition  of 
the  country.  The  original  inhabitants  of  the  peninsula — 
the  Iberians — antedate  authentic  historical  records,  but 

217 


218  WOMAN 

some  centuries  before  the  Christian  era  it  is  certain  that 
there  was  a  Celtic  invasion  from  the  North  which  resulted 
in  a  mingling  of  these  two  races  and  the  appearance  of  the 
Celtiberians.  The  life  of  these  early  inhabitants  was  rude 
and  filled  with  privations,  but  they  were  brave  and  hardy, 
having  no  fear  of  pain  or  danger,  and  possessed  by  the  love 
of  liberty.  In  this  primitive  society  the  occupations  of  the 
men  were  almost  exclusively  those  connected  with  the  pur- 
suit of  war,  and  the  wives  and  mothers  were  given  a  large 
measure  of  domestic  responsibility  and  were  treated  with 
great  respect.  To  them  was  intrusted  not  only  the  educa- 
tion of  the  younger  children,  but  the  care  of  the  land  as 
well,  and  there  is  nothing  to  show  that  they  failed  in  either 
of  these  duties.  They  were  more  than  good  mothers  and 
good  husbandmen,  however,  for  more  than  once,  in  case 
of  need,  these  early  Spanish  women  donned  armor  and 
fought  side  by  side  with  their  husbands  and  brothers, 
sword  or  lance  in  hand,  nothing  daunted  by  the  fierceness 
of  the  struggle  and  always  giving  a  good  account  of  them- 
selves in  the  thick  of  the  battle. 

Hannibal's  wife  was  a  woman  of  Spain,  it  is  true,  but  it 
is  to  her  less  eminent  sisters  that  we  must  turn  in  order  to 
discover  the  most  conspicuous  cases  of  feminine  bravery 
and  heroism,  which  are  accompanied  in  almost  every  in- 
stance by  a  similar  record  for  the  men,  as  the  lot  of  men 
and  women  was  cast  along  the  same  lines  in  those  days, 
and  the  national  traits  are  characteristic  of  either  sex.  A 
most  fervid  patriotism  was  inbred  in  these  people,  and 
throughout  all  the  long  years  of  Roman  conquest  and  depre- 
dation these  native  Celtiberians,  men  and  women,  proved 
time  and  time  again  that  they  knew  the  full  significance  of 
the  Latin  phrase  which  came  from  the  lips  of  their  con- 
querors— Duke  et  decorum  est  pro  patria  mori  [It  is  sweet 
and  glorious  to  die  for  one's  country].  When  Hannibal 


SPAIN  BEFORE  THE  MOORISH  INVASION  219 

essayed  to  capture  the  stronghold  of  Saguntum,  a  fortified 
city  on  the  eastern  coast  of  Spain,  and  probably  of  Phoeni- 
cian origin,  he  found  himself  confronted  by  no  easy  task. 
On  account  of  his  early  residence  in  Spain  and  his  famil- 
iarity with  the  people  and  the  country,  he  had  found  its 
conquest  an  affair  of  no  great  difficulty  for  the  most  part, 
but  here  at  Saguntum  all  the  conditions  were  changed. 
The  resistance  was  most  stubborn,  in  spite  of  the  fact 
that  the  besieging  force  consisted  of  one  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  men.  Hannibal  himself  was  wounded  while 
fighting  under  the  walls;  and  when  the  end  came,  the  fall 
of  Saguntum  was  due  to  famine  rather  than  to  the  force  of 
arms.  Then  the  Saguntines,  men,  women,  and  children, 
were  of  the  opinion  that  surrender  was  ignoble,  and  they 
all  preferred  death  at  the  hands  of  the  enemy  to  any 
timorous  act  of  submission. 

Some  thirteen  years  later,  in  B.  C.  206,  the  Romans,  who 
were  now  making  a  systematic  endeavor  to  subdue  the 
whole  country,  laid  siege  to  Ataspa;  and  although  the  de- 
tails of  the  investment  of  the  city  are  far  from  complete, 
the  imperfect  records  of  the  event  show  that  the  force 
of  the  enemy  was  so  overwhelming  that  the  inhabitants  of 
the  ill-fated  city  saw  at  once  the  futility  of  a  prolonged 
resistance  and  resolved  to  do  or  die  without  delay.  Ac- 
cordingly, a  small  guard  was  left  behind  to  kill  the  women 
and  children  and  set  fire  to  the  town,  and  the  rest  of  the 
doughty  little  garrison,  with  banners  waving  and  bugles 
sounding  in  defiance,  sallied  forth  from  the  city  gates,  and 
each  man  went  to  his  death  with  his  face  to  the  enemy. 
The  thrilling  tale  of  the  final  capture  of  the  city  of  Numan- 
tia  by  Scipio  Africanus  furnishes  but  further  proof  of  this 
indomitable  courage  of  the  early  Spaniards.  After  a  siege 
and  blockade  of  sixteen  months,  the  Numantians,  threat- 
ened by  famine,  and  unable  to  secure  terms  of  honorable 


220  WOMAN 

capitulation,  decided  that  death  was  better  than  the  horrors 
of  Roman  slavery;  and  so  they  killed  each  other  in  their 
patriotic  zeal,  wives  and  daughters  perishing  at  the  hands 
of  their  fathers  and  their  husbands,  and  the  last  man,  after 
setting  fire  to  the  town,  threw  himself  into  the  flames. 
When  the  Roman  conquerors  marched  through  the  stricken 
city  they  could  discover  nothing  but  "  ruin,  blood,  solitude, 
and  horror."  By  B.  C.  72  practically  all  of  Spain  had  sub- 
mitted to  the  Romans,  but  Pompey  found  to  his  surprise 
that  the  old  Spanish  spirit  was  not  entirely  dead  when  he 
attempted  to  take  possession  of  the  town  of  Calahorra  on 
the  Ebro.  The  details  of  the  affair  almost  pass  belief.  As 
usual,  the  defence  was  dogged;  and  when  the  town  was 
threatened  with  famine,  it  is  said  that  the  men  not  only 
killed  the  women  and  children,  but  actually  salted  their  flesh 
and  stored  it  for  future  consumption!  This  was  not  mere 
savagery,  it  was  fanatic  devotion  to  a  patriotic  principle, 
and  there  is  naught  to  show  that  the  deed  was  done  under 
protest  from  the  victims. 

The  superior  organization  of  the  Romans  was  bound  to 
conquer,  however,  in  the  end,  and  by  the  time  of  Julius 
Cassar  the  whole  country  had  been  subjected.  This 
gradual  supremacy  of  the  Romans  was  accompanied  by  a 
gradual  dying  out  of  those  early,  sturdy  virtues  which  had 
so  marked  the  Spanish  people.  Life  in  that  pre-Christian 
era  had  been  rude  and  uncouth;  there  was  little  education 
or  refinement;  but  there  was  a  certain  rugged  nobility  of 
character  which  cannot  but  command  our  admiration.  The 
general  manners  and  customs  of  the  time  are,  for  the  most 
part,  marked  by  great  decency  and  purity;  women  justly 
merited  the  respect  which  was  shown  them,  and  the 
family  was  recognized  as  a  necessary  factor  in  national 
strength.  As  an  interesting  bit  of  information  which  will 
show,  indirectly  at  least,  that  women  were  held  in  high 


SPAIN  BEFORE  THE  MOORISH  INVASION  221 

regard,  it  may  be  noted  that  a  number  of  old  coins  have 
been  found,  coming  from  this  early  day,  which  bear  upon 
one  side  a  woman's  head. 

The  prosperity  which  came  with  the  advent  of  the 
Romans  was  the  result,  in  great  part,  of  the  unexampled 
peace  which  the  whole  peninsula  now  enjoyed.  The 
mines  were  worked,  the  olive  groves  yielded  a  rich  har- 
vest of  oil,  the  fields  were  tilled  and  much  Spanish  wheat 
was  sent  abroad,  and,  in  everything  but  the  mining,  the 
women  worked  side  by  side  with  the  men.  Flax  had 
been  brought  to  Spain  long  before  by  the  Phoenicians,  and 
no  special  attention  had  been  given  to  its  culture;  but  now 
matters  were  quite  changed,  and  the  finest  linen  to  be 
found  in  all  the  Western  world  came  from  the  dexterous 
hands  of  the  Spanish  women.  This  time  of  peace  and 
comfort  cannot  be  considered  as  an  unmixed  blessing, 
however;  for  with  the  decline  of  war  the  sterner  virtues 
languished,  and  much  of  that  primitive  simplicity  of  an 
earlier  day  lost  its  freshness  and  nal'vete  and  gave  way  to 
the  subtle  vices  and  corrupt  influences  which  never  failed 
to  follow  in  the  wake  of  Latin  conquest.  The  strength 
and  virility  of  the  nation  had  been  sapped  by  the  Romans, 
as  thousands  of  Spaniards  were  forced  into  the  Roman 
legions  and  forced  to  fight  their  oppressors'  battles  in 
many  distant  lands,  and  very  few  of  them  came  home 
even  to  die.  With  this  enormous  depletion  of  the  male 
population,  it  was  but  natural  that  there  should  be  a  cer- 
tain mixture  of  races  which  was  not  always  an  aid  to 
public  morals.  Marriage  between  Roman  citizens  and  the 
women  of  the  so-called  barbarian  nations  was  rarely 
recognized  by  law;  many  of  the  Spanish  women,  as  pris- 
oners of  war,  were  sold  into  slavery;  and  with  such  a 
social  system  imposed  by  the  conquerors,  it  is  easy  to  see 
that  contamination  was  inevitable. 


222  WOMAN 

With  the  gradual  decay  of  Roman  power,  the  colonial 
dependencies  of  this  great  empire  were  more  and  more 
allowed  to  fall  into  the  almost  absolute  control  of  unscru- 
pulous governors,  who  did  not  miss  an  occasion  to  levy 
extortionate  taxes  and  manage  everything  in  their  own 
interests.  As  the  natural  result  of  the  raids  of  the  barba- 
rian hordes — the  Alans,  the  Suevians,  the  Vandals,  and  the 
Goths — Spain  was  losing  all  that  semblance  of  national 
unity  which  it  had  acquired  under  Roman  rule,  and  was 
slowly  resolving  itself  into  its  primitive  autonomous  towns. 
Finally,  Euric  the  Goth,  who  had  founded  a  strong  gov- 
ernment in  what  is  now  southern  France,  went  south  of 
the  Pyrenees  in  the  last  part  of  the  fifth  century,  defeated 
the  Roman  garrison  at  Tarragona,  and  succeeded  in  mak- 
ing a  treaty  with  the  emperor,  whereby  he  was  to  rule  all 
Spain  with  the  exception  of  the  Suevian  territory  in  the 
northwest.  Now  begins  that  third  process  of  amalgamation 
which  was  to  aid  in  the  further  evolution  of  the  national 
type.  First,  the  native  Iberians  were  blended  with  the 
early  Celtic  invaders  to  form  the  Celtiberian  stock,  then 
came  the  period  of  Roman  control,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
temporary  Carthaginian  occupancy,  and  now,  finally,  on 
the  ruins  of  this  Roman  province,  there  rose  a  Gothic 
kingdom  of  power  and  might.  The  foundations  of  Roman 
social  life  were  already  tottering,  for  it  had  been  estab- 
lished from  the  beginning  upon  the  notion  of  family  head- 
ship, and  the  individual  had  no  natural  rights  which  the 
government  was  bound  to  respect,  and,  all  in  all,  it  was 
little  calculated  to  inspire  the  esteem  and  confidence  of  the 
proud  Spaniard,  who  prized  his  personal  liberty  above  all 
else.  In  literature  and  in  art  Roman  influences  were 
dominant  and  permanent,  but,  as  Martin  Hume  says: 
"  The  centralizing  governmental  traditions  which  the 
Roman  system  had  grafted  upon  the  primitive  town  and 


SPAIN  BEFORE  THE  MOORISH  INVASION  223 

village  government  of  the  Celtiberians  had  struck  so  little 
root  in  Spain  during  six  centuries,  that  long  before  the  last 
legionaries  left  the  country  the  centralized  government 
had  fallen  away,  and  the  towns  with  their  assembly  of  all 
free  citizens  survived  with  but  little  alteration  from  the 
pre-Roman  period." 

This  being  the  case  when  the  Goths  appeared,  it  was 
easy  for  them  to  start  out  afresh  on  their  own  lines,  and 
all  the  more  so  as  many  of  their  governmental  ideas  were 
peculiarly  adapted  to  the  Spanish  temperament.  The 
Goths  at  the  time  of  their  appearance  in  Spain  were  no 
longer  barbarians,  as  their  long  contact  with  Rome  had 
given  them  ample  opportunity  for  education,  and  they 
deserve  to  be  considered  as  disseminators  of  civilization. 
Their  easy  conquest  of  Spain  can  then  be  accounted  for  in 
two  ways:  first,  there  was  not  sufficient  warlike  spirit 
in  the  country  to  successfully  oppose  them;  secondly,  they 
were  hailed  as  liberators  rather  than  as  conquerors,  be- 
cause at  their  coming  the  real  barbarians,  who  were  still 
threatening  the  country,  were  forced  to  leave.  The  cen- 
tral idea  of  the  Gothic  social  system,  which  was  soon 
established  in  all  parts  of  the  country,  was  its  recognition 
of  the  independence  of  the  individual,  and  especially  of  the 
women  of  the  family.  The  head  of  the  household  did  not 
consider  himself  as  the  sole  possessor  of  all  rights  and 
privileges;  the  women  and  children  were  expected  to  do 
their  share  of  fighting  the  enemy,  and  were  given  their 
share  of  food  and  plunder  in  all  equity.  The  equality  of 
the  wife  with  her  husband  was  strictly  enjoined,  not  only 
in  the  marriage  ceremony,  but  also  by  law,  which  gave 
her  full  control  of  her  own  property  and  a  half-interest  in 
the  possessions  held  by  them  both  in  common. 

Alaric  II.  caused  to  be  published  in  506  the  code  of  laws 
which  had  been  compiled  by  King  Euric,  but  which  was 


224  WOMAN 

called  the  Breviarium  Alaricianium,  wherein,  among  various 
other  matters,  the  rights  of  women  are  especially  enforced. 
This  code  was  intended  only  for  the  use  of  the  Goths,  who 
took  position  at  once  as  a  ruling  and  noble  race,  and  the 
rest  of  the  population  was  still  governed  by  the  old  Roman 
code.  For  almost  a  hundred  and  fifty  years  this  double 
system  of  legal  procedure  was  maintained,  and  then  its 
many  disadvantages  became  so  evident  that  a  vigorous 
king  sought  to  remedy  the  tottering  fortunes  of  the  Gothic 
realm  by  promulgating  a  single  code,  to  which  all  should 
be  subject  and  which  should  represent  the  better  features 
of  the  two  codes  hitherto  in  vogue.  Chindaswinth,  who 
ruled  from  642  to  654,  was  responsible  for  this  new  de- 
parture; and  his  son  Recceswinth,  who  followed  him  upon 
the  throne,  was  the  first  to  administer  the  revised  code, 
which  is  known  as  the  Lex,  Visigothorum.  Although  the 
document  is  but  an  adaptation  of  the  Roman  law  to  the 
special  needs  of  the  country  from  the  standpoint  of  Chris- 
tianity, it  shows  at  the  same  time  the  strong  influence  of 
the  social  traditions  of  the  Goths,  and  especially  with 
reference  to  its  treatment  of  women. 

It  is  evident  from  a  perusal  of  these  laws  that  the  Goths 
had  high  ideals  of  family  life,  and  that  it  was  their  most 
earnest  endeavor  to  maintain,  by  means  of  legal  enact- 
ment, a  rather  unusual  state  of  social  purity.  Women 
were  held  in  high  esteem  and  occupied  a  most  respected 
and  influential  position,  and  Csesar's  wife  was  their  com- 
mon model.  The  moral  condition  of  the  Romanized  Span- 
iards fell  far  short  of  the  Gothic  standards,  however,  and 
it  is  evident  that  the  new  code  endeavored  to  correct  the 
numerous  social  evils  which  then  afflicted  the  country. 
The  loose  habits  of  the  Romans  had  been  followed  all  too 
quickly,  and  the  custom  of  keeping  many  slaves  in  a 
household  had  led  to  a  domestic  promiscuity  which  was 


SPAIN  BEFORE  THE  MOORISH  INVASION  22$ 

appalling  in  some  instances,  so  that  the  Gothic  desire  for 
reform  is  easily  explained.  It  is  interesting  to  note  in  this 
connection  that  the  best  account  to  be  found  of  the  moral 
status  of  the  whole  people  at  this  time  is  contained  by 
implication  in  the  list  of  things  which  they  are  forbidden 
by  law  to  do.  So,  the  Lex  Visigothorum  is  not  only  a  trib- 
ute to  the  moral  sense  of  its  promulgators,  but  at  the  same 
time  a  storehouse  of  information  with  regard  to  a  rather 
obscure  period  in  Spanish  history. 

All  things  considered,  one  of  the  most  startling  things  in 
the  new  code  was  a  severe  statute  forbidding  public  pros- 
titutes, for  it  is  somewhat  difficult  to  believe  that  the  moral 
tone  of  society  at  that  time  would  warrant  so  stringent  a 
measure.  A  public  flogging  was  prescribed  as  the  penalty 
which  would  be  inflicted  upon  all  who  failed  to  obey  the 
statute,  and  it  is  altogether  probable  that  the  law  was  ad- 
ministered with  the  same  Puritanic  rigor  which  had  brought 
it  into  existence.  Other  provisions  there  were,  animated 
by  this  same  spirit,  which  were  levelled  at  the  social  evils 
incident  to  the  practice  of  holding  slaves.  A  woman  who 
had  intrigued  with  her  own  slave  or  who  wished  to  marry 
him  was  condemned  to  death  in  the  most  summary  fashion; 
and  even  if  the  man  were  a  freedman,  the  penalty  was 
just  the  same.  What  a  glimpse  this  gives  us  of  the  life  of 
the  time,  when  the  slaves  were  often  more  charming  and 
more  intelligent  than  their  rough  masters,  and  how  clear  it 
is  that  the  Goths  considered  a  household  conducted  with 
decency  and  with  order  as  an  important  element  in  national 
prosperity  and  well-being! 

As  one  might  naturally  expect,  the  laws  relating  to  the 
subject  of  marriage  and  divorce  are  equally  severe,  even 
when  the  contracting  parties  belong  to  the  same  class  in 
society.  The  equality  between  wife  and  husband  was 
again  provided  for,  as  it  had  been  in  the  earlier  code,  and 


226  WOMAN 

the  woman  was  again  given  full  control  of  her  own  property 
and  a  half-interest  in  the  things  which  had  been  common 
property.  Once  married,  divorce  was  forbidden  except  in 
the  case  of  adultery  on  the  woman's  part;  and  though  it 
is  clear  to  see  that  this  was  not  equal  justice  for  both  man 
and  wife,  yet  such  was  the  fact.  When  infidelity  was 
proved,  the  law  provided  that  the  wife  and  her  paramour 
should  be  delivered  up  to  the  tender  mercies  of  the  injured 
husband,  who  had  the  right  to  punish  them  according  to 
his  own  inclination.  He  was  given  the  power  of  life  and 
death  even,  under  these  circumstances,  and  too  often  it  is 
to  be  feared  that  the  punishment  became  a  bloody  revenge 
sanctioned  by  law.  Marriage  between  Jews  and  Chris- 
tians had  long  been  forbidden,  as  it  had  been  discovered 
by  experience  that  such  a  union  was  bound  to  lead  to 
proselyting  in  one  form  or  another;  and  the  death  penalty 
was  inflicted  upon  all  who  were  not  content  to  abide  by 
the  statute.  Marriage  between  Goths  and  Romans  had 
been  legalized  in  652,  but  for  many  years  before  that  time 
the  two  races  had  been  kept  apart;  for  the  Goths,  as  the 
ruling  race,  considered  it  prejudicial  to  their  interests  to 
ally  themselves  in  this  way  with  their  subjects. 

Woman's  place  in  the  criminal  procedure  of  the  time 
was  unique.  It  appears  that  the  punishment  inflicted  for 
any  given  crime  depended  not  so  much  upon  the  impor- 
tance of  the  offence  as  upon  the  importance  of  the  criminal, 
and  that  almost  every  injury  might  be  atoned  for  by  the 
payment  of  a  certain  sum  of  money,  the  amount  depending 
upon  the  rank  of  the  person  making  the  payment.  Such 
money  payments,  wherever  a  woman  was  involved,  were 
regulated  according  to  the  following  scale  of  values:  from 
her  birth  to  the  age  of  fifteen,  she  was  valued  at  only  one- 
half  the  price  of  a  man  of  her  own  class;  from  fifteen  to 
twenty,  she  was  considered  of  equal  value;  from  twenty 


SPAIN  BEFORE  THE  MOORISH  INVASION  22/ 

to  forty,  she  was  rated  as  worth  one-sixth  less  than  a 
man;  and  after  forty,  at  even  less  than  half.  Inasmuch 
as  both  men  and  women  were  amenable  to  the  same  laws 
with  but  this  difference  in  the  amount  of  the  penalty  in 
any  given  case,  it  would  appear  that  women  were  recog- 
nized to  possess  a  smaller  money-earning  power  than  the 
men;  and  such  was  undoubtedly  the  case,  in  spite  of  the 
fact  that  both  men  and  women  seemed  to  share  alike 
the  various  daily  tasks  in  the  earlier  and  simpler  days  of 
Gothic  rule  in  Spain.  Such  participation  on  the  part  of  the 
women  was  by  no  means  common  among  the  Romans,  and 
this  fact,  together  with  the  spread  of  slavery,  did  much  to 
put  the  women  in  this  secondary  position,  so  far  as  ability 
to  work  was  concerned. 

With  all  this  apparent  equality  in  fact  and  in  the  eyes 
of  the  law,  it  is  somewhat  doubtful  whether  or  not  the 
wives  and  mothers  really  enjoyed  a  high  degree  of  personal 
liberty.  Their  legal  rights  were  clearly  defined,  but  it  is 
certain  that  they  were  looked  upon  as  inferior  beings. 
The  prevalent  customs  with  regard  to  the  marriage  dower 
show  in  no  uncertain  fashion  that  the  wife  was  considered 
to  a  certain  extent  as  the  chattel  and  property  of  her  hus- 
band; for  a  woman  could  not  marry  without  a  dower,  but 
it  was  paid  not  by  but  to  her  parents,  and  by  her  future 
husband.  A  marriage  of  that  description  may  be  likened 
to  the  sale  of  a  bill  of  goods.  In  further  proof  of  this 
dependent  position  of  the  women,  and  to  show  the  care 
which  was  taken  to  protect  them  from  contamination  of 
any  kind,  one  of  the  statutes  regulating  the  practice  of 
medicine  presents  certain  interesting  features.  This  law 
prohibited  surgeons  from  bleeding  any  freewoman  except 
in  the  presence  of  her  husband,  her  nearest  relative,  or  at 
least  of  some  properly  appointed  witness.  A  Salic  law 
dating  from  about  the  same  period  imposed  a  fine  of  fifteen 


228  WOMAN 

pieces  of  gold  upon  anyone  who  should  improperly  press  a 
woman's  hand,  but  there  seems  to  be  nothing  to  show  that 
the  Goths  considered  legislation  upon  this  important  point 
necessary.  Even  under  these  conditions  the  physician's 
position  was  somewhat  precarious,  as  it  was  provided  that 
in  case  he  should  withdraw  enough  of  the  patient's  blood 
to  cause  death,  he  became  the  slave  of  the  patient's  heir 
at  law! 

Spain  was  like  the  greater  part  of  the  rest  of  Europe  at 
this  time  with  regard  to  its  intellectual  atmosphere;  Chris- 
tianity and  Roman  civilization  had  not  yet  succeeded  in 
stamping  out  the  old  pagan  beliefs  of  the  early  inhabitants, 
and  superstition  and  ignorance  were  for  a  long  time  char- 
acteristic traits  of  the  majority  of  the  people.  The  air 
was  peopled  with  demons,  the  devil  himself  was  no  infre- 
quent visitor,  witches  and  fortune  tellers  were  not  without 
influence,  and  stealthily,  by  night,  many  mystic  rites  were 
celebrated.  Many  of  the  Christian  beliefs  of  the  time  are 
likewise  the  result  of  ignorance  and  superstition,  but  at 
that  time,  naturally,  only  the  pagan  ideas  were  condemned. 
Accordingly,  while  the  law  of  the  Goths  recognized  trial 
by  ordeal,  wherein  God  is  summoned  to  bear  miraculous 
witness  in  favor  of  the  innocent,  the  same  law  condemned 
belief  in  witchcraft!  The  favorite  ordeal  among  the  Goths 
was  trial  by  red-hot  iron.  The  Church  took  charge  of  this 
ceremony,  which  was  accompanied  by  a  most  solemn  ritual, 
and  all  this  was  legal  and  religious  and  approved  by  the 
highest  authorities!  But  the  poor  witches  had  to  go!  It 
was  charged  that  they  were  able  to  produce  storm  and 
ruin  by  means  of  their  incantations,  that  they  offered 
nightly  sacrifices  to  devils,  and  that  in  general  they  were 
in  league  with  the  powers  of  darkness  and  productive 
of  much  disorder.  Furthermore,  soothsayers  were  not 
to  be  consulted  concerning  the  death  of  a  king;  and  any 


SPAIN  BEFORE  THE  MOORISH  INVASION  229 

freeman  disobeying  this  edict  was  soundly  flogged,  lost  his 
property  by  confiscation,  and  was  condemned  to  perpetual 
servitude.  These  mysterious  and  redoubtable  old  women 
who  gathered  simples  upon  the  mountain  side  and  dealt 
in  the  black  art  had  formerly  been  very  numerous,  and, 
although  they  have  always  continued  to  exist  in  Spain, 
their  number  was  much  diminished  by  means  of  the  en- 
forcement of  the  new  law. 

In  addition  to  the  various  social  and  political  questions 
which  were  demanding  settlement  at  this  time,  there  was 
a  matter  of  ecclesiastical  difference  which  caused  great 
trouble  and  confusion.  The  Goths,  though  Christians, 
belonged  to  the  Arian  branch  of  the  Church,  while  the 
Spaniards  were  firm  believers  in  the  Athanasian  or  Latin 
form  of  Christianity,  and  the  struggle  for  supremacy  be- 
tween the  two  went  on  for  many  years  before  either  side 
was  willing  to  submit.  Near  the  beginning  of  the  sixth 
century,  Clothilda,  daughter  of  the  Prankish  king,  Clovis, 
was  married  to  Amalaric,  the  Gothic  king,  whose  capital 
was  then  in  the  old  city  of  Narbonne.  Political  advantages 
were  supposed  to  come  from  this  international  alliance,  but 
the  results  were  quite  to  the  contrary.  The  queen  was 
an  Athanasian,  and  the  king  an  Arian  Catholic,  and  neither 
was  willing  to  endure  the  heresy  of  the  other.  Amalaric 
used  his  most  persuasive  arts  in  his  attempts  to  win  over 
his  wife  to  the  Gothic  point  of  view,  but  his  endeavor 
was  in  vain,  and  she  remained  obstinately  true  to  the  God 
of  her  fathers.  Finally,  irritated  beyond  measure,  the  king 
ordered  that  Clothilda  should  no  longer  be  allowed  to  make 
public  profession  of  her  religion,  and  the  result  was  a 
merry  war  which  led  to  the  defeat  and  final  death  of  the 
Arian  sovereign.  Late  in  this  same  sixth  century  there 
was  in  Spain  another  Prankish  queen,  who  not  only  held 
steadfastly  to  her  own  faith,  but  was  the  indirect  means 


230  WOMAN 

whereby  all  the  country  was  induced  to  abandon  the  Arian 
creed.  The  native  Catholic  clergy,  under  the  leadership  of 
Leander,  a  most  noted  churchman,  and  Bishop  of  Seville, 
had  long  urged  the  necessity  of  such  a  change,  but  the 
Goths  were  unwilling  to  submit;  and  so  matters  stood 
until  Prince  Hermenegild,  urged  on  by  Leander,  and  most 
of  all  by  his  wife  Ingunda,  led  a  revolt  against  his  father, 
King  Leovgild.  The  revolt  was  not  a  success,  but  the  star 
of  the  Athanasian  party  was  rising  rapidly,  and  the  open 
stand  of  the  queen  for  the  Latin  doctrines  gave  great 
impetus  and  power  to  the  whole  movement.  The  triumph 
was  complete  when  Leovgild's  son  and  heir,  Recared,  saw 
that  further  opposition  was  useless  and  publicly  announced 
his  conversion  to  the  faith  of  Rome. 

In  the  early  history  of  the  Church  in  Spain  there  are 
many  interesting  references  to  women  which  are  not  gen- 
erally known,  but  which  reveal,  on  the  whole,  a  condition 
of  affairs  similar  to  that  which  was  to  be  found  in  other 
parts  of  Europe  at  the  same  time.  Monasteries  were 
probably  unknown  in  the  peninsula  before  the  middle  of 
the  sixth  century,  but  from  a  very  early  day  it  is  certain 
that  women  as  well  as  men  were  taking  vows  of  perpetual 
chastity  and  devoting  themselves  to  a  life  of  holy  works. 
Early  in  the  fourth  century  the  Council  of  Elvira  pre- 
scribed penalties  for  professed  nuns  who  might  desire  to 
reenter  the  world,  and  the  Council  of  Saragossa,  in  380, 
declared  that  no  virgin  should  be  allowed  to  devote  herself 
to  a  religious  life  until  she  had  reached  the  mature  age  of 
forty  years.  That  same  Council  of  Elvira  was  the  first 
in  the  history  of  the  Church  to  ordain  the  celibacy  of 
the  secular  clergy,  and  its  thirty-third  canon  forbade  the 
bishops,  priests,  and  deacons  of  the  peninsula  to  live  as 
husbands  with  their  wives.  In  the  year  591,  the  first 
Synod  of  Toledo,  over  which  Bishop  Leander  presided, 


SPAIN  BEFORE  THE  MOORISH   INVASION  231 

enacted  various  canons  which  give  some  interesting  side- 
lights on  the  times.  It  appears  that  ecclesiastics  had  already 
been  forbidden  to  keep  women  servants  in  their  houses, 
but  the  rule  was  so  often  disregarded  that  it  was  enacted 
that  in  the  future,  as  a  punishment  for  such  intractable 
churchmen,  their  servants  should  be  sold  as  slaves  and 
the  proceeds  handed  over  to  some  charitable  organization. 
In  just  what  way  this  punishment  was  to  affect  the  clergy, 
beyond  causing  them  temporary  annoyance,  it  is  difficult 
to  understand,  but  there  is  no  doubt  as  to  the  fact. 

In  all  of  the  seven  centuries  preceding  the  Moorish  con- 
quest of  Spain  there  had  been  some  little  progress,  so  far 
as  the  position  of  women  was  concerned,  but  it  cannot  be 
said  that  the  advance  had  been  great.  The  original 
Gothic  ideas  on  this  subject  had  been  far  superior  to  those 
held  by  the  Romans,  but  the  rigor  of  the  old  ideas  lost 
force  in  time,  and,  if  the  accounts  of  the  Church  historians 
be  true,  the  last  Goths  to  wield  the  sceptre  were  so  cor- 
rupt and  led  such  abandoned  lives  that  God,  in  his  ven- 
geance, sent  the  Mohammedan  horde  upon  them.  In  all 
these  shifting  times  the  conditions  of  life  were  such  that 
few  women  were  able  to  take  any  prominent  part  in  public 
affairs;  or  if  they  did,  the  imperfect  records  of  the  epoch 
fail  to  make  mention  of  it.  At  intervals  there  were  queens, 
like  Ingunda,  possessed  of  a  strong  and  decided  character 
and  ready  to  take  a  part  in  the  control  of  affairs,  but  they 
were  the  exception  and  not  the  rule,  as  the  education  of 
women  was  so  very  limited  that  few  of  them  knew  enough 
to  see  beyond  a  very  narrow  horizon.  Probably  the  most 
enlightened  woman  in  all  this  period  was  the  nun  Floren- 
tina,  sister  of  Bishop  Leander  of  Seville,  who  was  far- 
famed  for  her  good  works.  At  the  time  of  her  death  in 
603,  she  had  risen  to  such  distinction  on  account  of  her 
character  and  her  ability  that  she  was  made  the  general 


232  WOMAN 

director  of  a  system  of  over  forty  convents,  which  were 
under  her  continual  inspection  and  control.  Such,  in  brief, 
is  her  story;  further  details  are  wanting,  but  even  this  is 
enough  to  impress  us  with  the  fact  that  she  must  have 
been  a  great  woman  and  representative  of  all  that  was 
good  and  noble  in  her  day. 


SKomen  among  tJje  Jttoars 


XIII 

WOMEN   AMONG  THE   MOORS 

THE  closing  years  of  Gothic  rule  in  Spain,  and  the 
various  causes  which  finally  led  to  the  Moorish  invasion, 
are  somewhat  involved  in  legend  and  mystery.  But  in 
spite  of  a  scepticism  which  has  been  openly  expressed  by 
some  authors,  it  seems  more  than  probable  that  the  fabled 
Rodrigo,  from  his  capital  at  Toledo,  actually  ruled  over 
Spain  in  the  year  709,  and  that  he  was,  directly  or  indi- 
rectly, the  cause  of  the  invasion  of  the  Moors.  According 
to  the  commonly  accepted  story,  the  moral  condition  of 
Spain  at  the  beginning  of  the  eighth  century  was  most 
deplorable.  The  Goths  had  lost  that  reputation  for  hon- 
esty and  chastity  which  in  the  earlier  days  of  their  power 
had  distinguished  them  from  the  Romans.  Rodrigo,  "the 
last  of  the  Goths,"  lived  a  life  of  such  flagrant  profligacy 
that  the  coming  of  the  Moors  was  but  just  punishment  for 
all  his  sins.  As  Miss  Yonge  has  remarked,  "the  fall  of 
Gothic  Spain  was  one  of  the  disasters  that  served  to  jus- 
tify the  saying  that  all  great  catastrophes  are  caused  by 
women."  The  woman  in  the  present  instance  was  Flo- 
rinda,  often  called  La  Cava,  reputed  to  be  the  daughter  of 
Count  Julian,  commander  of  the  south  of  Spain  and  in 
charge  of  the  fortress  of  Ceuta.  Although  Rodrigo  already 
possessed  a  wife,  Egilona,  who  was  a  brilliant,  able,  and 
beautiful  woman,  he  was  a  man  of  little  moral  force  and 
had  a  roving  eye  and  lusty  passions.  Seeing  Florinda 

235 


236  WOMAN 

once  upon  a  time,  he  coveted  her,  succeeded  in  winning 
her  affections,  and  was  not  content  until  he  had  betrayed 
her  confidence  and  brought  dishonor  upon  her  and  her 
father.  Count  Julian,  filled  with  a  righteous  anger  at  this 
unwarranted  act  on  the  part  of  his  liege  lord,  openly  re- 
volted, called  in  the  Moors,  and  unwittingly  opened  his 
country  to  an  invader  who  would  be  slow  to  leave.  The 
story  is  told  in  the  old  ballad,  as  follows: 

"  Long  had  the  crimes  of  Spain  cried  out  to  Heaven : 
At  length  the  measure  of  offence  was  full. 
Count  Julian  called  the  invader    .    .    . 

.    .    .    Mad  to  wreak 
His  vengeance  for  his  deeply  injured  child 
On  Roderick's  head,  an  evil  hour  for  Spain, 
For  that  unhappy  daughter,  and  himself. 
Desperate  apostate,  on  the  Moors  he  called, 
And,  like  a  cloud  of  locusts,  whom  the  wind 
Wafts  from  the  plains  of  wasted  Africa, 
The  Mussulman  upon  Iberia's  shores 
Descends.    A  countless  multitude  they  came: 
Syrian,  Moor,  Saracen,  Greek  renegade, 
Persian,  and  Copt,  and  Latin,  in  one  band 
Of  erring  faith  conjoined,  strong  in  the  youth 
And  heat  of  zeal,  a  dreadful  brotherhood. 

La  Cava,  the  name  by  which  Florinda  has  been  called 
ever  since  by  the  Spaniards,  means  "the  wicked  one," 
and  the  general  theory  has  been  that,  in  spite  of  her  be- 
trayed innocence,  she  has  been  held  in  execration  for  all 
that  followed.  Others,  however,  have  pointed  out  the 
discrepancy  between  the  generally  acknowledged  purity 
of  character  of  Florinda  and  the  meaning  of  La  Cava,  and 
it  is  their  opinion  that  Count  Julian's  daughter  is  merely 
legendary,  and  that  La  Cava  refers  in  some  allegorical  way 
to  the  dissolute  and  voluptuous  life  which  Rodrigo  had 
been  leading  and  which  was  in  itself  a  good  and  sufficient 
reason  for  all  the  misfortunes  which  were  to  follow. 


WOMEN  AMONG  THE  MOORS  237 

While  all  is  not  clear  as  to  the  reason  for  the  invitation 
to  come  to  Spain,  there  is  no  cause  to  doubt  that  it  was 
accepted  in  a  most  hearty  manner.  Modern  historians  do 
not  hesitate  to  say  that  the  Catholic  churchmen,  not  real- 
izing the  danger,  invited  the  Moslems  to  aid  them  in  re- 
pressing a  revolt  among  the  Gothic  nobles.  However  the 
case  may  have  been,  Mousa,  the  Berber  chieftain,  sent  his 
bravest  sheik,  Tarik,  with  a  goodly  following,  to  lead  the 
invasion.  The  white-turbaned  warriors  crossed  the  strait 
between  what  had  always  been  called  the  Pillars  of  Her- 
cules, and  landed  upon  that  great  rock  which  has  ever 
since  borne  that  leader's  name,  Gebel-al-Tarik — Gibraltar 
— the  "  rock  of  Tarik."  Rodrigo,  with  an  army  of  about 
eighty  thousand  men,  which  he  had  hastily  gathered  to- 
gether, hastened  to  meet  the  invaders,  and  the  two  armies 
met  on  the  banks  of  the  Guadelete.  Egilona,  Roderick's 
wife,  was  left  with  a  safe  guard  in  the  strongly  fortified 
town  of  Meriba,  while  the  "  last  of  the  Goths,"  in  shining 
armor  and  wearing  a  helmet  adorned  with  horns  of  gold, 
such  as  may  be  seen  upon  old  Gothic  coins,  fought  vainly 
against  the  terrible  horsemen  of  the  deserts.  La  bataille 
est  merveillose  e  pesant,  to  quote  the  words  of  the  Song  of 
Roland,  describing  that  other  battle,  between  the  Franks 
and  the  Moors,  some  sixty-five  years  later  in  the  fatal  pass 
of  Roncesvalles;  the  Goths  were  overwhelmingly  defeated, 
and  Rodrigo  disappeared  in  a  most  mysterious  way,  leav- 
ing his  crown  and  sceptre  upon  the  river  bank.  Mousa, 
with  another  invading  force,  had  followed  close  upon  the 
heels  of  Tarik,  and  he  it  was  who  pushed  on  to  Meriba 
and  laid  siege  to  the  town,  knowing  full  well  that  the 
queen  was  within  the  gates,  while  Tarik,  by  a  series  of 
easy  conquests,  made  his  way  to  Toledo.  When  the  siege 
came  to  a  close  and  the  Berbers  entered  the  fortifications, 
they  were  amazed  at  the  richness  and  vast  amount  of 


238  WOMAN 

treasure  which  fell  into  their  hands.  The  jewel  caskets 
of  Egilona  in  particular  excited  their  wonder  and  admira- 
tion, and  so  many  chains  of  gold  and  precious  stones  did 
they  find  among  her  possessions  that  she  was  straightway 
named  "the  Mother  of  Necklaces."  When  the  spoils  of 
battle  were  divided,  the  fair  captive  queen  fell  to  the  lot 
of  Mousa's  son,  Abdul  Aziz,  who  had  been  made  ruler  over 
the  newly  conquered  territory.  The  young  Moorish  prince 
was  soon  a  slave  to  the  charms  of  Egilona,  and  so  great 
did  his  love  for  her  become  that  he  married  her,  with  the 
promise  that  he  would  always  regard  her  as  queen  and 
would  never  marry  again;  he  never  broke  that  promise. 
Seville  was  his  capital,  and  there  his  power  was  so  great 
that  the  kalif  in  Damascus,  fearing  that  he  might  attempt 
to  rule  independently,  sent  out  men  to  take  his  life.  These 
assassins  found  him  so  beloved  by  his  soldiers  that  they 
feared  to  attack  him  until  they  had  circulated  the  rumor 
that  Egilona  was  about  to  convert  him  to  the  Christian 
faith  and  that  he  would  soon  wear  a  crown  upon  his  head, 
like  any  Christian  king.  After  this  story  had  been  spread 
abroad,  the  kalif's  men  followed  Aziz  to  a  small  mosque, 
where  he  went  sometimes  to  pray,  cut  off  his  head,  and 
showed  it  in  the  public  place,  with  the  order  for  his  death. 
The  Goths  were  driven  to  the  north  and  west  of  the 
peninsula,  while  the  Moors,  in  the  rich  country  to  the  south 
and  east,  strengthened  their  position  and  laid  the  founda- 
tions for  that  empire  which  was  to  have  such  a  long  and 
brilliant  history.  In  the  middle  of  the  eighth  century  the 
kalif  at  Damascus  had  lost  his  power  to  so  great  an  extent 
that  the  seat  of  government  was  transferred  to  Cordova, 
where  Abd-el-Rhaman  I.  reigned  for  more  than  a  quarter 
of  a  century  as  the  first  kalif  of  the  Moslem  Church  resi- 
dent in  Spain.  On  the  borderland  there  was  continual 
fighting  between  the  Moors  and  the  Christians,  and  many 


WOMEN  AMONG  THE  MOORS  239 

are  the  legends  which  tell  of  this  spirited  epoch.  The 
Christians  had  rallied  about  the  standards  of  various  lead- 
ers in  the  hill  countries,  and  they  fought  among  themselves 
quite  as  much  as  with  the  Moslem  foe.  There  are  even 
stories  to  the  effect  that  Christian  leaders  made  alliances 
with  the  Moors  for  more  successful  forays  upon  their 
Christian  neighbors,  and  there  are  also  legends  of  shame- 
ful peace  which  was  bought  at  the  price  of  Christian 
tribute.  Among  all  these  tales  of  tribute,  that  which  has 
most  fired  the  national  spirit  and  inspired  the  ballad  writers 
is  the  story  of  the  tribute  of  a  hundred  Christian  maidens, 
which  was  paid  by  King  Ramiro.  The  indignation  of  the 
people  at  this  unworthy  act  and  the  reproaches  of  the  Span- 
ish women,  who  preferred  the  hardships  of  war  to  this 
cowardly  repose,  are  well  expressed  in  the  following  verses 
from  the  ballad  which  sings  of  the  cessation  of  the  tribute, 
wherein  a  Spanish  damsel  addresses  the  king: 

"  I  know  not  if  I'm  bounden  to  call  thee  by  the  name 
Of  Christian,  Don  Ramiro,  for  though  thou  dost  not  claim 
A  heathen  realm's  allegiance,  a  heathen  sure  thou  art— 
Beneath  a  Spaniard's  mantle  thou  hid'st  a  Moorish  heart 

"  For  he  who  gives  the  Moslem  king  a  hundred  maids  of  Spain, 
Each  year  when  in  its  season  the  day  comes  round  again, 
If  he  be  not  a  heathen,  he  swells  the  heathen's  train : 
'Twere  better  burn  a  kingdom  than  suffer  such  disdain. 

"And  if  'tis  fear  of  battle  that  makes  ye  bow  so  low, 
And  suffer  such  dishonor  from  God  our  Savior's  foe, 
I  pray  you,  sirs,  take  warning,  ye'll  have  as  good  a  fright 
If  e'er  the  Spanish  damsels  arise  themselves  to  right" 

The  Moorish  conquest  had  been  rapidly  made,  and  gen- 
erally very  little  resistance  was  offered  to  the  advance  of 
the  invaders.  The  emasculating  influences  of  the  Roman 
decadence  had  been  at  work  to  such  effect  that  the  sturdy 
traits  of  the  Goth  had  disappeared,  and  there  was  no  real 


240  WOMAN 

national  spirit  or  energy  sufficient  for  the  national  defence. 
To  the  credit  of  the  Moors,  it  must  be  said  that  their  con- 
quest was  ever  marked  by  mercy  and  large-mindedness; 
and  in  spite  of  their  absolute  power  and  their  intense  re- 
ligious zeal,  they  permitted  the  subdued  people  to  enjoy 
many  liberties.  Chief  among  them  was  their  right  to 
worship  as  Christians,  retaining  their  clergy  and  their  lit- 
urgy, which  had  been  compiled  by  the  Spanish  bishops 
Leander  and  Ildefonso.  Christian  zeal,  however,  was  not 
satisfied  with  a  state  of  inaction.  Many  times  a  number 
of  people  went  to  what  they  considered  a  glorious  martyr- 
dom as  the  result  of  their  intemperate  denunciations  of 
the  Koran  and  the  sons  of  the  Prophet.  Christianity  was 
allowed  to  exist  without  hindrance,  but  the  Moors  would 
not  permit  criticism  of  their  own  faith,  and  this  was  natural 
enough.  Several  of  these  Christian  martyrs  were  women, 
and  their  stubborn  love  for  their  religion  cannot  but  excite 
our  sympathy,  however  ill  advised  and  unavailing  it  may 
have  been.  The  story  is  told  of  two  poor  young  girls, 
Munila  and  Alodia,  the  children  of  a  Moslem  father  and  a 
Christian  mother,  who  had  carefully  brought  them  up  in 
her  own  faith.  These  maidens  became  so  beautiful  that 
they  were  called  "  roses  springing  from  thorns."  As  the 
story  goes,  "their  father  died  and  their  mother  married  a 
less  tolerant  Moslem,  who,  finding  their  faith  proof  against 
his  threats,  brought  them  before  the  Kadi.  Splendid  mar- 
riages were  offered  them  if  they  would  quit  the  Christian 
faith:  but  they  answered  that  they  knew  of  no  spouse 
equal  to  their  Lord,  no  bliss  comparable  to  what  He  could 
bestow:  and  persuasion  and  torture  alike  failed  with  them, 
until  they  sealed  their  confession  with  their  lives."  The 
rage  for  martyrdom  now  seemed  to  grow,  and  there  is  a 
long  list  of  those  who  went  to  death  as  the  result  of  their 
voluntary  acts.  Conspicuous  here  is  the  case  of  a  wealthy 


WOMEN  AMONG  THE  MOORS  241 

young  woman  named  Columba,  who  left  the  Moslem 
Church,  in  spite  of  the  entreaties  of  her  family,  and  en- 
tered a  convent  at  Tabanos.  By  order  of  the  authorities, 
the  other  nuns  of  the  establishment  were  taken  to  Cordova 
and  locked  up,  that  they  might  not  become  violent  in  their 
talk  and  bring  destruction  upon  themselves  as  the  result 
of  their  intemperate  acts;  and  Columba  was  kept  in  soli- 
tary confinement,  in  the  hope  that  she  might  be  induced 
to  abjure  her  newly  found  faith.  But  she  refused  to 
change  her  belief  in  any  way,  and  one  day  escaped,  went 
at  once  and  reviled  Mohammed  before  the  kadi,  and  went 
to  her  death,  as  was  inevitable,  according  to  the  law  of 
the  land. 

In  the  middle  of  the  ninth  century,  Eulogius,  the  recently 
elected  Metropolitan  Bishop  of  Toledo,  was  considered  too 
zealous  and  too  uncompromising  in  his  beliefs,  and  he  was 
soon  summoned  before  the  divan  to  answer  to  the  charge 
of  participation  in  the  flight  and  conversion  of  a  Moslem 
lady,  who  had  taken  the  name  of  Leocritia,  under  which 
she  was  canonized  at  a  later  date.  It  was  said  that  the 
woman  had  become  a  Christian  through  his  efforts,  and 
that  he  had  hidden  her  for  a  time  in  the  house  of  his  sister. 
He  was  decapitated,  and  his  body  was  thrown  into  the 
river;  and  if  the  legend  be  true,  a  white  dove  flew  over  it 
as  it  floated  down  the  stream.  Leocritia  also  was  put  to 
death.  Here,  however,  the  record  of  these  martyrdoms 
apparently  comes  to  an  end,  and  the  force  of  the  folly 
seems  to  have  spent  itself.  The  Mohammedans  were 
growing  more  strict  all  the  time  in  their  treatment  of  the 
Christians,  but  the  futility  of  such  self-sought  martyrdom 
was  finally  becoming  apparent. 

Before  the  time  of  these  religious  disturbances  the  Moors 
had  not  molested  the  Christians  in  any  way,  and  the  two 
nations  lived  side  by  side  in  rather  friendly  intercourse. 


242  WOMAN 

Intermarriages  were  not  infrequent,  and  both  Moorish  and 
Christian  women  lived  much  the  same  outward  life.  Each 
Moor  was  allowed  four  wives  by  law;  and  while  the  women 
of  his  household  were  compelled  to  submit  to  certain  re- 
strictions, their  manner  of  life  was  far  less  secluded  than 
that  of  the  average  woman  of  the  modern  Orient.  They 
went  about  veiled  up  to  the  eyes,  and  were  never  allowed 
to  eat  with  the  men;  but,  socially,  men  and  women  min- 
gled together  on  terms  of  equality,  and  their  conversations 
and  common  enjoyment  of  music  and  poetry  were  unre- 
stricted. In  the  most  brilliant  period  of  the  kalifate  of 
Cordova, — between  the  years  888  and  967, — when  the 
Moors  were  acknowledged  to  be  the  most  enlightened 
people  of  all  Europe,  their  women  were  not  excluded  from 
participation  in  educational  pursuits.  While  few  if  any  of 
them  became  the  intellectual  equals  of  the  men,  many 
of  them  learned  enough  to  become  helpful  companions 
for  their  husbands — and  that  is  not  such  a  bad  idea  for 
women's  education,  even  in  these  modern  days,  if  the 
voice  of  the  men  is  to  be  heard  in  the  land.  In  Seville  a 
lady  named  Maryam  founded  a  school  for  girls,  where  they 
were  taught  science,  mathematics,  and  history,  in  addi- 
tion to  the  various  feminine  accomplishments  of  the  time. 
With  regard  to  the  mysteries  of  their  attire,  this  subject 
can  best  be  treated  by  a  woman  who  knows  whereof  she 
speaks.  Miss  Yonge,  in  her  interesting  book  on  the  Chris- 
tians and  Moors  in  Spain,  has  the  following  to  say  on  the 
subject:  "Their  dress  was  much  the  same  as  that  of 
the  ladies  of  North  Africa.  Full  white  muslin  trousers 
were  tied  at  the  ankle,  and  a  long,  full,  white  gilalah,  a 
mantle  of  transparent  muslin,  covered  the  tighter  vest  and 
jacket,  both  of  brilliant  colors,  over  which  they  wore  gold 
chains,  necklaces,  and  bracelets,  with  strings  of  coral, 
pearl,  and  amber;  while  their  hair  was  in  little  curls, 


WOMEN  AMONG  THE  MOORS  243 

adorned  with  jewels  and  flowers.  But  all  this  was  con- 
cealed by  the  thick,  muffling,  outer  veil;  they  also  had 
horsehair  visards  through  which  they  could  see  without 
being  seen." 

With  the  growth  and  consolidation  of  Moslem  power  in 
Spain,  and  as  the  natural  result  of  the  great  progress  in  the 
mechanic  arts  of  all  kinds,  life  became  luxurious  and  filled 
with  comforts  far  outside  the  ken  of  the  sturdy  Spanish 
patriots,  who,  from  their  mountain  strongholds,  were  still 
battling  against  the  rule  of  the  infidel.  The  effect  of  all 
this  elegance  and  refinement  was  evident  in  the  whole 
atmosphere  of  Moorish  society,  and  the  beautiful  homes  of 
these  wonderful  people  were  filled  with  the  most  rare  and 
costly  works  of  art.  An  illustration  of  how  necessary  all 
these  luxuries  of  life  finally  became  to  the  Mohammedans 
is  found  in  the  statement  that  the  sheik  of  a  tribe  on  a 
pilgrimage  to  Mecca  carried  with  him  a  whole  caravan  of 
dependents  and  slaves.  He  had  silver  ovens  in  which  to 
bake  fresh  bread  every  day,  and  his  camels  bore  leathern 
bags  filled  with  snow  that  he  might  drink  iced  sherbet  in 
the  midst  of  the  desert.  A  Moorish  general  carried  to  his 
camp  an  immense  following  of  women,  slaves,  musicians, 
and  court  poets,  and  in  his  pavilioned  tent,  on  the  very 
eve  of  a  battle,  there  were  often  feasting  and  dancing  and 
much  merriment,  just  as  if  he  had  been  in  his  sumptuous 
home  at  Cordova. 

The  Moors  were  generous  and  public-spirited,  and  much 
given  to  display.  The  marriage  feast  which  was  prepared 
by  Almanzor  the  Invincible,  for  his  son,  in  the  year  1000, 
presents  a  picture  of  glittering  splendor  which  has  been 
described  more  than  once.  Abd-el-Malek  was  the  son's 
name,  and  he  was  being  married  to  his  own  cousin,  one 
of  the  most  beautiful  of  the  Moorish  maidens.  The  feast 
took  place  in  the  gardens  about  Almanzor's  beautiful 


244  WOMAN 

country  place,  Almeria,  where  at  night  the  whole  estate 
was  illuminated  by  means  of  lamps  which  were  fastened  to 
every  tree  and  shrub.  Musicians,  far  out  upon  the  lakes, 
discoursed  sweet  music  from  boats  which  were  hung  with 
silken  tapestries,  and  the  whole  night  was  given  over  to 
pleasures.  As  a  reminder  of  the  customs  of  the  desert 
tribes,  who  used  to  carry  off  their  wives  by  force,  the 
bride  was  placed  in  a  spacious  pavilion  of  white  silk,  where 
she  was  carefully  guarded  by  her  maids  in  waiting,  each 
armed  with  a  cunningly  wrought  wand  of  ivory  and  gold. 
The  bridegroom  and  his  attendants  came  upon  them  sud- 
denly, however,  brandishing  gilt  maces,  and  after  a  mimic 
struggle,  where  all  was  mirth  and  laughter,  the  guard  of 
love  was  overcome  and  the  bride  was  won.  This  wed- 
ding feast  brought  joy,  not  only  to  those  who  actively 
participated  in  its  pleasures,  but  also  to  many  of  the  com- 
mon people;  for  Almanzor  gave  dowries  to  a  large  number 
of  orphan  girls,  endowed  a  large  number  of  schools  and 
colleges,  and  put  new  uniforms  upon  all  the  members  of 
his  bodyguard. 

With  the  death  of  the  great  Kalif  Al  Hakem  II.— 976— 
the  power  of  Islam  in  Spain  began  slowly  to  decline.  His 
son  and  heir,  Heschem  II.,  was  but  a  youth  of  ten,  and  the 
Arabs  called  him  Al  Mowayed  Bi'llah,  "the  Protected  by 
God."  Though  the  law  required  that  the  Ruler  of  the 
Faithful  should  be  more  than  fifteen  years  old,  Heschem 
was  at  once  proclaimed  kalif,  although  he  was  given  no 
share  in  the  government.  His  mother,  Sobeyah,  the  Sul- 
tana of  Cordova,  had  acquired  some  experience  in  affairs 
of  state  during  the  last  few  years  of  her  husband's  life; 
now,  to  help  her  in  her  regency,  she  appointed  as  her 
grand  vizier  Mohammed-ben-Abd-Allah,  a  man  of  wonder- 
ful power  and  ability  and  no  other  than  Almanzor  the  In- 
vincible, who  has  already  been  mentioned.  Almanzor  had 


WOMEN  AMONG  THE  MOORS  245 

entered  the  public  service  as  a  court  scribe,  and  it  was 
there  that,  by  the  charm  of  his  manner  and  the  nobility  of 
his  bearing,  he  first  attracted  the  attention  of  Sobeyah. 
The  all-powerful  sultana  was  not  slow  in  yielding  to  his 
many  graces,  and  he  soon  became  her  acknowledged 
favorite  and  rose  to  high  positions  in  the  state.  It  was 
but  natural,  then,  that  Sobeyah  should  turn  to  him  for  aid 
when  her  husband's  death  was  announced.  On  account 
of  the  minority  of  her  son,  there  was  an  attempt  on  the 
part  of  many  in  the  palace  to  deprive  the  sultana  of  her 
authority,  depose  her  son,  and  usurp  the  office  of  kalif. 
Sobeyah,  hard  pressed  and  all  but  defeated,  turned  to  her 
lover,  Almanzor,  who  suppressed  the  intrigue  and  brought 
order  out  of  confusion.  Enjoying  as  he  did  the  full  confi- 
dence of  the  sultana,  Almanzor  undertook  the  entire  ad- 
ministration of  the  kingdom  as  if  he  had  been  kalif  in 
name  as  well  as  in  fact,  and  his  success  in  all  his  various 
undertakings  was  most  wonderful.  Heschem,  the  real 
kalif,  was  a  virtual  prisoner  in  his  harem,  and  was  encour- 
aged by  his  guardian  and  friends  to  devote  himself  entirely 
to  a  religious  life,  leaving  all  the  cares  of  state  to  his 
mother  Sobeyah  and  to  the  vizier.  Step  by  step,  Alman- 
zor ascended  to  a  position  of  such  power  and  authority 
that  the  sultana  became  jealous  of  his  might  and  lost  her 
love  in  an  attempt  to  regain  her  authority.  In  992,  ac- 
cording to  Burke,  Almanzor  used  his  seal  in  place  of  the 
royal  seal  on  all  official  documents.  In  993  he  assumed 
the  royal  cognomen  of  Mowayed.  Two  years  later  he 
arrogated  to  himself,  alone,  the  title  of  said,  and  in  996 
he  ventured  a  step  further  and  assumed  the  title  of  m'alik 
karim,  or  king.  Then  it  was  that  Sobeyah  determined  to 
reassert  her  power,  cause  the  overthrow  of  this  ambitious 
favorite,  and  rule  henceforth  in  her  own  name.  The  offi- 
cers of  the  harem  and  the  various  court  officials  were 


246  WOMAN 

easily  won  over  to  her  party;  the  young  kalif  was  urged 
to  assert  his  manhood,  declare  himself,  throw  off  the  influ- 
ence of  his  dreaded  guardian,  and  give  active  support  to 
the  cause  of  his  mother.  The  sultana  became  exultant  as 
victory  seemed  assured.  Secretly,  she  summoned  one  of 
Almanzor's  military  rivals  from  Africa,  that  she  might 
have  a  leader  for  her  forces  in  the  field.  The  public  treas- 
ury was  at  her  disposal,  and  no  stone  was  left  unturned  to 
secure  ultimate  success.  As  the  final  coup,  the  vizier  was 
banished  from  the  royal  presence  and  forbidden  to  enter 
the  palace.  But  Almanzor  was  still  the  Invincible.  Giving 
no  heed  to  the  terms  of  his  banishment,  he  made  his  way 
into  the  presence  of  the  kalif;  and  there,  by  bold  yet 
subtle  argument,  he  not  only  succeeded  in  regaining  the 
royal  favor,  but  secured  from  Heschem  a  solemn  instru- 
ment, signed  with  the  royal  sign  manual,  whereby  he  was 
empowered  to  assume  the  government  of  the  entire  king- 
dom. This  was  the  same  tragic  story  which  was  to  be 
acted  over  again  in  the  early  part  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  in  France,  when  the  great  prime  minister,  the 
Cardinal  Richelieu,  his  jealous  rival,  the  queen-mother, 
and  the  weak  king,  Louis  XIII.,  were  more  than  once 
engaged  in  a  struggle  for  power,  which  ended  invariably 
in  the  success  of  the  minister.  It  is  difficult  to  find  a  more 
striking  historical  coincidence,  and  the  case  is  worthy  of 
remark.  In  his  success,  Almanzor  showed  no  hate  for  his 
one-time  protectress,  who  had  so  nearly  caused  his  ruin, 
and  in  his  administration  of  affairs  he  left  her  entire  liberty 
of  action.  But  her  last  vestige  of  power  had  departed, 
her  most  loyal  followers  had  been  induced  to  abandon  her 
cause  after  the  defection  of  the  kalif  himself,  and  Sobeyah, 
who  had  been  the  most  powerful  of  all  the  Moorish  sultanas 
of  Cordova,  was  now  forced  in  humiliation  to  withdraw 
from  active  participation  in  worldly  affairs  and  to  spend 


WOMEN  AMONG  THE  MOORS  247 

the  few  remaining  years  of  her  life  in  strict  seclusion  in  a 
lonely  cloister. 

In  the  last  part  of  the  eleventh  century  there  were 
troublous  times  for  the  Moors.  For  a  number  of  years 
there  had  been  no  strong  central  power  among  them,  and 
the  various  emirs  who  were  the  rulers  of  the  different 
parts  of  the  peninsula  were  so  intent  upon  their  own 
affairs,  and  so  consumed  by  greed  and  selfishness,  that  the 
general  cause  suffered  mightily  and  the  Spanish  Christians 
grew  bolder  and  bolder  in  their  attacks.  Alfonso  VI.  of 
Castile  was  their  leader.  The  danger  of  total  extinction 
finally  became  so  great  that  the  emirs  were  induced  to 
join  forces  for  their  personal  safety  and  to  take  measures 
to  preserve  their  towns  and  cities.  Realizing  their  help- 
less condition,  they  sent  a  letter  to  Yousouf-ben-Tashfyn, 
Prince  of  the  Almoravides,  a  Mohammedan  tribe  of  Africa, 
asking  him  to  come  with  his  hosts  to  help  them  do  battle 
against  the  infidel.  Certain  portions  of  this  invitation 
reveal  so  clearly  the  deplorable  conditions  of  Moorish 
society  at  this  time  that  it  is  well  worth  while  to  spend  a 
moment  in  their  perusal: 

"We,  the  Arabs  of  Andalusia,  have  not  preserved  our 
illustrious  tribes:  we  have  dispersed  and  intermixed  them, 
and  have  long  had  no  fellowship  with  our  tribes  and  fami- 
lies who  dwell  in  Africa.  Want  of  union  has  led  to  discord, 
and  our  natural  enemies  are  prevailing  against  us.  Each 
day  becometh  more  unbearable  the  fury  of  King  Alfonso, 
who  like  a  mad  dog  enters  our  lands,  takes  our  castles, 
makes  Moslems  captive,  and  will  tread  us  under  foot  un- 
less an  emir  from  Africa  will  arise  to  defend  the  oppressed, 
who  behold  the  ruin  of  their  kindred,  their  neighbors,  and 
even  of  their  law.  They  are  no  more  what  they  once 
were.  Pleasures,  amusements,  the  sweet  climate  of  An- 
dalusia, delicious  baths  of  fragrant  waters,  fountains  and 


248  WOMAN 

dainty  meats,  have  enervated  them  so  that  they  dare  not 
face  the  toils  of  war.  If  thou  art  moved  by  desire  of 
earthly  wealth,  here  wilt  thou  find  rich  carpets,  jewels  of 
gold  and  silver,  precious  raiment,  delicious  gardens,  and 
clear  springs  of  flowing  water.  But  if  thine  heart  seeks 
only  to  win  eternal  life  in  Allah's  service,  here  is  the 
opportunity,  for  never  are  wanting  bloody  battles,  skir- 
mishes, and  fights.  Here  has  Allah  placed  a  paradise  that 
from  the  shadow  of  weapons  thou  mayest  pass  to  the 
everlasting  shadow  where  he  rewards  the  deserving." 

Moved  by  such  an  appeal,  Yousouf  came  with  his  armies, 
defeated  the  Christians  under  Alfonso  at  the  terrible  battle 
of  Zalakah,  and  would  have  followed  up  his  victory  had 
he  not  been  recalled  to  Morocco  by  the  death  of  his  son. 
He  returned  to  Spain  soon  after,  however,  and  then  began 
a  conquest  in  his  own  interests,  having  made  up  his  mind 
that  the  emirs  could  be  easily  dispossessed  and  that  it 
would  be  good  to  rule  as  the  absolute  master  of  all  Anda- 
lusia. Beginning  with  Granada,  he  attacked  the  emirs 
each  in  turn,  and  in  the  end  subdued  them  all.  Aben 
Abed,  the  Emir  of  Seville  and  one  of  the  most  learned 
men  in  Spain,  was  so  beside  himself  at  the  thought  of  this 
possible  defeat,  that  he  sought  for  aid  in  any  quarter  and 
finally  entreated  the  assistance  of  the  redoubtable  Alfonso, 
his  late  enemy.  As  proof  of  his  good  faith  and  by  way  of 
inducement,  Aben  Abed  decided  to  offer  to  Alfonso  the 
hand  of  his  daughter,  Zaida,  in  marriage.  If  the  tradi- 
tions be  correct,  Zaida  was  a  Christian  at  heart,  in  spite 
of  her  Mohammedan  education  and  surroundings,  as  the 
Castilians  claimed  that  she  had  been  converted  in  a  dream 
in  which  Saint  Isidore  had  come  to  her  and  prevailed  upon 
her  to  change  her  faith.  In  any  event,  Alfonso  seems  to 
have  been  only  too  glad  to  accept  this  offer,  and  Zaida 
was  accordingly  escorted  in  great  state  to  Toledo,  which 


WOMEN  AMONG  THE  MOORS  249 

had  lately  been  wrested  from  the  Moors;  there  she  was 
baptized  as  Maria  Isabella,  and  then  married  to  the  king 
with  much  ceremony.  This  Moorish  princess  was  a  per- 
fect beauty  of  the  Oriental  type,  with  dark  hair  and  oval 
face,  and  Alfonso  may  well  have  been  enamored  of  her 
charms;  but  he  was  no  less  enamored  of  her  marriage  por- 
tion, which  consisted  of  the  rich  cities  of  Cucuca,  Ucles, 
and  Huate.  The  new  queen  was  hailed  with  joy  by  the 
Christians,  as  her  conversion  was  considered  prophetic  of 
the  ultimate  and  complete  success  of  Alfonso's  armies. 
Unfortunately,  Zaida  lived  for  but  a  short  time  after  her 
marriage;  she  died  in  giving  birth  to  Alfonso's  only  son, 
who  was  named  Sancho.  Aben  Abed's  alliance  with  the 
Christian  monarch  for  their  mutual  defence  was  without 
final  result,  however,  as  he  was  at  last  compelled  to  sur- 
render Seville  in  1091,  after  a  stubborn  resistance.  Aben 
Abed  was  exiled,  with  his  wife  and  daughters,  and  was 
sent  to  the  castle  of  Aginat,  in  Africa,  to  live  his  life  away. 
There,  if  the  reports  be  true,  their  food  was  so  scanty 
that  the  ladies  of  the  family  had  to  spin  to  get  enough  for 
them  all  to  eat,  while  the  despondent  emir  tried  to  beguile 
the  weary  hours  with  poetry.  The  hardships  of  their  life 
were  so  great  that  finally  the  emir  was  left  alone  in  his 
captivity,  and  it  was  four  long  years  before  he  could 
follow  them  in  death. 

In  the  latter  part  of  the  fourteenth  century,  the  little 
kingdom  of  Granada  was  the  most  prosperous  part  of  the 
Moorish  territory,  and  its  brilliant  life  seemed  to  recall  for 
a  moment  the  splendors  of  Cordova.  Chivalry,  driven 
from  southern  France  by  the  Albigensian  Crusade,  had 
been  slowly  growing  in  importance  among  the  Spaniards 
of  the  north,  and  the  Moors  were  not  slow  in  following 
the  courteous  spirit  and  in  adopting  its  code  of  truth  and 
honor.  Mohammed  V.  controlled  the  destinies  of  the 


250  WOMAN 

Granadine  kingdom  at  this  time;  and  when  his  son,  Aben- 
Abd-Allah,  was  married  to  the  daughter  of  the  Emir  of 
Fez,  there  was  a  succession  of  the  most  splendid  fetes 
and  tournaments,  which  were  attended  by  knights  not 
only  from  Christian  Spain  but  also  from  Italy  and  France. 
Chivalry  was  essentially  a  Christian  institution,  but  its 
outer  forms  were  readily  taken  up  by  the  Moors  and  prac- 
tised to  such  an  extent  that  their  influence  upon  society 
and  social  conventions  soon  began  to  show  itself  in  a  most 
surprising  way.  The  women  of  the  harems,  who  in  former 
days  were  generally  considered,  after  the  Eastern  fashion, 
as  beings  who  were  not  to  be  mentioned,  now  occupy  a 
more  honorable  position,  and  it  is  recounted  that  the  men 
"  wore  the  devices  of  their  lady-loves  on  the  rich  housings 
of  their  steeds — hearts  pierced  with  arrows,  a  sail  guiding  a 
ship,  an  initial,  and  in  colors  denoting  their  state  of  mind: 
yellow  and  black  for  grief,  green  for  hope,  blue  for  jealousy, 
violet  and  flame  for  ardent  love.  Large  assemblies  were 
held  in  the  beautiful  houses  and  gardens,  where  hunting, 
poetry,  music,  and  dancing  were  the  chief  occupations; 
but  the  grave  learning  and  earnestness  of  Al  Hakem's 
days  had  passed  away,  and  the  enjoyments  had  become 
far  more  sensual  and  voluptuous  than  in  his  time."  It  is 
evident  that  the  frugal,  stern,  uncompromising  sons  of  the 
Prophet  of  an  earlier  day  were  becoming  men  of  little 
faith  in  many  particulars,  and  that  they  had  fallen  far 
below  the  standard  of  life  which  had  characterized  their 
ancestors.  But  in  this  state  of  moral  degeneracy  it  is 
gratifying  to  note  that  the  position  of  women  has  been 
much  improved  and  that  they  are  no  longer  regarded  as 
mere  slaves.  The  customs  of  chivalry,  as  has  been  indi- 
cated, were  responsible  for  much  of  this,  but  the  influence 
of  the  many  Spanish  women  who  were  held  as  captives  in 
the  harems  must  not  be  overlooked. 


WOMEN  AMONG  THE  MOORS  251 

The  closing  years  of  Moorish  dominion  in  Spain  were 
marked  by  many  adventures  of  a  most  romantic  character, 
which  have  been  made  familiar  to  the  world  at  large  by 
Washington  Irving.  When  Aboul  Hacem  came  to  the 
throne  in  1466,  the  Mohammedan  power  was  already  totter- 
ing; but  there  were  troubles  in  Castile  which  emboldened 
the  king  to  such  an  extent  that,  in  1476,  when  the  regular 
demand  for  tribute  money  was  presented,  he  is  said  to 
have  made  answer:  "Those  who  coined  gold  for  you  are 
dead.  Nothing  is  made  at  Granada  for  the  Christians  but 
sword-blades  and  lance-points."  Although  ultimate  suc- 
cess for  the  Moors  was  now  entirely  out  of  the  question, 
their  final  defence  was  not  what  it  might  have  been — a 
state  of  affairs  which  was  the  result  of  various  contentions 
that  emanated  largely  from  the  harem.  Conspicuous  in 
these  intrigues  was  Zoraya,  "the  Morning  Star,"  a  rene- 
gade Christian  who  was  the  favorite  wife  of  the  king. 
Though  childless,  Zoraya  had  interested  herself  in  Boabdil, 
the  son  of  another  wife,  Ayescha,  and  had  determined  to 
drive  Aboul  Hacem  from  his  throne,  that  his  son  might  rule 
in  his  place.  So  formidable  did  the  plot  become  that  the  king 
was  forced  to  imprison  Ayescha  and  Boabdil  in  a  certain 
quarter  of  the  harem;  but  their  captivity  was  short,  as  they 
were  soon  put  at  liberty  by  friendly  hands.  Twisting  a  rope 
from  the  veils  of  the  sultana's  women  in  waiting,  wife  and 
son  let  themselves  down  from  a  window  and  sought  refuge 
among  their  supporters.  Countless  quarrels  followed, 
which  ended  in  Boabdil's  final  success,  and  in  them  all, 
Zoraya  was  his  firm  friend  and  adviser.  But  success  at 
such  a  time  and  for  such  a  cause  was  little  more  than  failure, 
and  the  day  was  soon  to  come  when  sultanas  and  intriguing 
harem  favorites  could  no  longer  trouble  the  land  with  their 
contentions;  for  the  power  of  Isabella  the  Catholic  was  soon 
to  be  felt,  and  the  doom  of  the  Moor  had  been  sounded. 


3Tfje  aSBomen  of  tfje  JLtttle 


XIV 
THE  WOMEN   OF   THE   LITTLE   MONARCHIES 

IN  spite  of  the  fact  that  Spain  was  an  easy  conquest  for 
the  Moors  and  that  whole  cities  surrendered  to  the  in- 
vaders without  having  struck  a  single  blow  in  their  own 
defence,  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  there  was  no  op- 
position whatever  and  no  show  of  Spanish  patriotism. 
The  great  mass  of  the  population,  it  is  true,  were  yielding 
and  willing  to  accept  any  terms,  so  long  as  they  were 
allowed  to  live  unmolested.  Such  were  the  Romanized 
Spaniards,  who  formed  a  majority  of  the  population,  but 
who  had  long  been  held  in  subjection  by  the  masterful 
Goths.  As  a  race  they  lacked  energy  and  vitality,  and 
they  were  too  corrupt  and  pleasure-loving  to  be  moved  by 
patriotic  instincts  in  such  a  time  of  national  crisis.  A  cer- 
tain portion  of  the  Goths,  however,  after  their  defeat  at 
the  battle  of  Guadalete,  decided  to  renounce  their  lands 
and  all  their  possessions  rather  than  live  under  the  rule  of 
the  Mohammedans;  and  with  their  wives  and  children  and 
such  little  treasure  as  they  could  hurriedly  get  together, 
they  set  out  for  the  north  and  found  a  refuge  in  the  rocky 
slopes  of  the  Pyrenees.  The  mountain  passes  were  not 
under  the  control  of  any  of  these  Christian  refugees,  and 
the  Moors  were  free  to  advance  on  the  fair  fields  of  south- 
ern France  so  long  as  they  did  not  turn  aside  to  molest  the 
Spanish  patriots.  When  they  did  make  such  attack,  the 

255 


256  WOMAN 

fortunes  of  war  were  generally  against  them,  and  more 
than  once  those  modes  of  mountain  warfare  were  em- 
ployed which  at  an  earlier  date  wrought  such  great  havoc 
with  the  hosts  of  Charlemagne  at  the  pass  of  Roncesvalles. 
In  these  desperate  conflicts,  as  in  the  olden  time  when  the 
Celtiberians  were  trying  to  beat  back  the  power  of  Rome, 
the  women  were  not  slow  to  take  their  place  beside  their 
fathers  and  husbands  at  the  first  wild  call  to  arms.  The 
old  Moorish  leader  Mousa  had  spoken  well  when  he  told 
the  kalif  at  Damascus  that  the  Christians  of  Spain  were 
lions  in  their  castles,  and  the  Moors  were  repeatedly  given 
ample  proof  of  the  wisdom  of  his  observation. 

"  Covadonga's  conquering  site 
Cradle  was  of  Spanish  might," 

so  says  the  old  ballad.  And  what  and  where  was  Cova- 
donga?  At  the  far  western  extremity  of  the  Pyrenees, 
where  the  Sierra  Penamerella  thrusts  its  rugged  spur  into 
the  Atlantic,  was  a  great  mountain  cavern,  Covadonga, 
large  enough  to  shelter  as  many  as  three  hundred  men, 
and  there  had  gathered  together  the  strongest  of  the  Chris- 
tian bands  after  the  Moorish  victory  in  the  south.  A  long, 
sinuous  valley  or  ravine,  named  Cangas,  that  is  to  say, 
the  "shell,"  sloped  down  to  the  foothills  from  the  mouth 
of  the  cave  and  seemed  to  present  an  easy  approach  to 
the  stronghold.  Pelayo,  of  the  royal  line  of  the  Goths, 
had  here  been  proclaimed  a  king  in  718,  and  here  was  the 
beginning  of  that  kingdom  of  Asturias  and  Leon  which  was 
later  to  become  a  mighty  one  in  Spain.  The  Moors  soon 
tried  to  crush  this  growing  power,  which  was  a  menace 
to  their  own  security.  They  sent  an  army  under  a  chief 
named  Al  Kama,  who  was  to  win  over  the  recalcitrants 
by  the  offer  of  fair  terms,  if  possible;  and  if  not,  he 
was  to  storm  their  rude  citadel  and  destroy  them  utterly. 


THE  WOMEN  OF  THE  LITTLE  MONARCHIES        257 

The  proposal  for  a  shameful  peace  was  indignantly  re- 
fused, and  the  Moors,  confident  of  victory,  and  outnum- 
bering the  Christian  warriors  many  times,  swept  up  the 
broad  slope  of  the  long  and  winding  valley  to  the  cavern's 
mouth.  The  summits  of  the  rocky  walls  on  either  side 
were  filled  with  people,  many  of  them  women,  who  were 
waiting  for  the  signal  from  Pelayo  and  his  brave  handful 
of  followers.  When  the  foreguard  of  the  Moors  was  near 
the  entrance  to  the  cave,  the  king  and  his  men,  mounted, 
led  the  attack  in  front,  and  all  along  the  line  the  carnage 
began.  Now  let  the  Spanish  ballad  speak  again: 

"'In  the  name 

Of  God !    For  Spain  or  vengeance  ! '    And  forthwith 
On  either  side  along  the  whole  defile, 
The  Asturians  shouting :  '  In  the  name  of  God  1 ' 
Set  the  whole  ruin  loose :  huge  trunks,  and  stones, 
And  loosened  crags,  down,  down  they  rolled  with  rush 
And  bound  and  thundering  force." 

The  mountain  torrent  which  had  its  course  along  the 
valley  was  dyed  red  with  the  pagan  blood,  and  so  great 
was  the  humiliation  of  the  Moors  that  the  Arab  chroniclers 
observe  a  discreet  silence  with  regard  to  the  details  of  this 
defeat.  But  for  the  brave  and  valiant  assistance  of  the 
Spanish  women  this  defeat  might  not  have  been  possible. 

Another  instance  of  the  bravery  of  the  Spanish  women, 
which  at  this  distance  seems  somewhat  tinged  with  the  air 
of  comic  opera,  is  connected  with  the  heroic  defence  of 
Orihuela.  It  was  at  the  time  of  the  Moorish  invasion, 
when  the  Gothic  leaders,  after  their  pitiful  failure  at 
Guadalete,  were  seeking  cover  and  scurrying  off  to  places 
of  safety,  closely  pursued  by  the  ardent  sons  of  the 
Prophet.  Duke  Theodomir,  hard  pressed  in  the  moun- 
tains of  Murcia,  was  obliged  to  ride  for  his  life;  and  with 
but  few  attendants,  he  finally  succeeded  in  making  his 


2$8  WOMAN 

way,  after  many  adventures,  to  the  walled  town  of  Ori- 
huela,  with  the  enemy  close  upon  his  heels.  To  prevent 
an  immediate  attack,  gain  time,  and  circumvent  the  Moors 
in  as  many  ways  as  possible,  Theodomir  had  to  think 
quickly.  The  town  was  practically  without  a  garrison 
when  he  entered  it,  and  his  followers  were  too  few  in 
numbers  to  avail  him  much.  Then  it  was  that  the  women 
of  the  town  came  to  his  assistance,  offering  to  do  what  he 
might  command  for  the  common  safety.  Theodomir  clothed 
them  in  armor  at  once,  gave  them  spears  and  swords,  or- 
dered them  to  tie  their  hair  under  their  chins,  that  they 
might  look  like  bearded  men,  and  then  stationed  his  ama- 
zon  warriors  upon  the  walls  and  fortifications,  where  they 
made  such  a  brave  parade  that  the  Moors  were  afraid  to 
attack  the  city,  and  offered  to  parley  with  the  Spaniards. 
Seizing  upon  this  favorable  opportunity,  Theodomir,  dis- 
guised as  a  legate,  and  preceded  by  his  page,  who  played 
the  part  of  a  royal  herald,  boldly  entered  the  hostile  camp, 
made  his  way  to  the  tent  of  Abdul  Aziz,  the  leader,  and 
there,  by  his  consummate  acting,  succeeded  in  obtaining 
the  province  of  Murcia,  together  with  seven  cities  which 
he  was  to  hold  under  the  kalif,  on  condition  of  a  yearly 
tribute.  Such  was  the  defence  of  Orihuela,  and  while  it 
involved  no  strenuous  fighting,  it  was  at  the  same  time 
no  mediocre  test  of  womanly  daring.  After  the  first  few 
trying  hours  of  the  masquerade  had  been  passed,  however, 
and  it  was  evident  that  the  ruse  had  been  successful,  it 
may  well  be  imagined  that  these  feminine  warriors  were 
not  slow  to  see  the  humor  of  the  situation,  and  many  must 
have  been  the  jests  as  they  passed  each  other  upon  the 
battlements,  with  the  Moors,  far  down  below,  completely 
awed  by  their  warlike  mien. 

Dryden  has   said:  "Women  emasculate  a  monarch's 
reign;"  and  more  than  one  instance  of  the  truth  of  this 


THE  WOMEN  OF  THE  LITTLE  MONARCHIES        259 

statement  may  be  found  in  the  court  annals  of  almost  any 
country.  The  history  of  the  little  monarchies  of  Spain  in 
that  chaotic,  formative  period,  when  the  Christians  were 
slowly  gaining  in  power  and  strength  and  preparing  for 
the  great  final  struggle  which  was  to  overcome  the  tur- 
baned  invaders  and  consolidate  the  Spanish  interests,  pre- 
sents many  chapters  of  exceeding  interest  wherein  women 
play  no  unimportant  r61e,  and  the  dowager-queen  Teresa, 
mother  of  King  Sancho  the  Fat,  of  Leon,  stands  out  as  a 
prominent  figure  among  them  all.  Endowed  with  no  mean 
portion  of  feminine  art  and  cunning,  she  was  the  author  of 
a  plot  which  gave  inspiration  for  a  whole  cycle  of  ballads. 
The  bravest  Christian  champion  in  all  Spain  in  the  latter 
half  of  the  tenth  century  was  Fernan  Gonzalez,  Count  of 
Castile,  a  veritable  Spanish  Warwick,  who  was  held  in 
such  high  esteem  by  his  countrymen  that  they  inscribed 
upon  his  great  carved  tomb  at  Burgos:  A  Fernan  Gon^ale^, 
Libertador  de  Castitta,  el  mas  excelente  General  de  ese  tiempo 
[To  Fernan  Gonzalez,  liberator  of  Castile,  the  greatest 
general  of  his  time].  His  great  success,  however,  in 
his  forays  against  the  Moors  made  Dona  Teresa  fearful 
lest  some  harm  might  befall  her  sluggish  son,  King 
Sancho.  For  some  time  Sancho  had  been  on  good  terms 
with  the  Moors.  He  had  even  journeyed  to  Cordova 
to  consult  a  celebrated  physician,  and  had  in  many 
ways  been  treated  with  such  favor  by  the  kalif,  Abd-el- 
Rhaman,  that  people  had  begun  to  shake  their  heads  and 
ask  themselves  whether  the  ruler  of  Leon  was  doing 
all  in  his  power  for  the  good  of  Christendom.  After 
the  great  success  of  Gonzalez  at  Pedrahita,  where  the 
Saracen  invader  Abu  Alaxi  suffered  signal  defeat,  there 
was  greater  dissatisfaction  than  ever  with  this  do-nothing 
policy,  and  the  Count  of  Castile  was  hailed  on  every  hand 
as  the  greatest  of  the  Christian  warriors.  Her  jealousy 


26O  WOMAN 

aroused,  Dona  Teresa  now  resolved  upon  desperate  meas- 
ures, ready  to  stop  at  nothing  in  her  mad  desire  to  over- 
throw Gonzalez.  On  her  advice,  the  count  was  summoned 
to  Sancho's  capital,  Oviedo,  for  a  general  conference  in 
regard  to  matters  of  Christian  defence,  and  to  Oviedo 
Gonzalez  came,  little  suspecting  the  trap  which  had  been 
laid  for  him  there.  Dona  Teresa  knew  that  Gonzalez  had 
lately  lost  his  wife,  and  she  found  opportunity  during  his 
stay,  after  many  words  of  fulsome  flattery,  in  which  she 
was  no  novice,  to  counsel  him  to  seek  the  hand  of  her 
niece,  Dona  Sancha,  daughter  of  King  Garcia  of  Navarre. 
She  even  undertook  to  arrange  this  marriage  for  him  and 
promised  to  send  her  messengers  on  ahead,  that  the  Na- 
varrese  court  might  be  ready  to  receive  him  in  case  he 
thought  best  to  go  at  once  to  press  his  suit.  Gonzalez,  at 
this  moment  a  living  example  of  Gay's  couplet, 

"And  when  a  lady's  in  the  case, 
You  know  all  other  things  give  place," 

all  inflamed  by  the  glowing  descriptions  of  Dona  Sancha's 
beauty,  and  at  the  same  time  fully  aware  of  the  political 
advantage  which  might  follow  from  this  alliance  with  the 
powerful  house  of  Navarre,  was  only  too  eager  to  go  on 
the  moment,  as  the  cunning  Dona  Teresa  had  supposed; 
and  he  set  out  at  once,  leaving  Oviedo  amidst  the  sound 
,of  martial  music,  with  banners  flying,  and  the  populace 
cheering  lustily  and  in  all  good  faith,  for  they  loved  this 
doughty  hero.  Dona  Teresa  had  kept  her  word,  in  that 
she  had  sent  on  her  messengers  ahead  to  announce  his 
coming,  but  the  reception  that  she  was  preparing  for  him 
was  far  different  from  the  one  which  he  had  imagined. 
King  Garcia  was  informed  by  his  crafty  sister  that  Gon- 
zalez was  coming  with  an  impudent  demand  for  his  daugh- 
ter's hand,  and  that  for  the  general  safety  he  should  be 


THE  WOMEN  OF  THE  LITTLE   MONARCHIES        261 

seized  and  put  into  one  of  the  castle  dungeons  as  soon  as 
he  appeared.  Dona  Sancha,  the  prospective  bride  of  his 
ardent  imagination,  was  no  party  to  all  this,  for  the  rumors 
of  Gonzalez's  visit  which  had  come  to  her  ears  had  filled 
her  with  excitement,  and  she  looked  forward  to  his  coming 
with  no  little  fluttering  of  heart.  King  Garcia,  however, 
was  faithful  to  his  sister's  command,  and  the  poor  Count 
Gonzalez,  taken  unawares,  was  promptly  cast  into  prison 
on  his  arrival.  What  Dona  Sancha  did  on  learning  the 
unworthy  role  she  had  been  made  to  play  in  this  sad  event 
is  well  told  in  the  ballad  which  recounts  the  story,  and 
here,  as  will  be  seen,  a  Norman  knight  is  made  to  act  as 
her  informant.  The  verses  are  in  Lockhart's  admirable 
translation: 

"  The  Norman  feasts  among  the  guests,  but  at  the  evening  tide 
He  speaks  to  Card's  daughter  within  her  bower  aside : 
'  Now  God  forgive  us,  lady,  and  God  His  Mother  dear, 
For  on  a  day  of  sorrow  we  have  been  blithe  of  cheer. 

" '  The  Moors  may  well  be  joyful,  but  great  should  be  our  grief, 
For  Spain  has  lost  her  guardian,  Castile  hath  lost  her  chief ; 
The  Moorish  host  is  pouring  like  a  river  o'er  the  land ; 
Curse  on  the  Christian  fetters  that  bind  Goncales's  hand. 

•"  '  Gon<;ales  loves  thee,  lady,  he  loved  thee  long  ago, 
But  little  is  the  kindness  that  for  his  love  you  show; 
The  curse  that  lies  on  Cava's  head,  it  may  be  shared  by  thee. 
Arise !  let  love  with  love  be  paid,  and  set  Goncales  free.' 

"The  lady  answered  little,  but  at  the  midst  of  night, 
When  all  her  maids  are  sleeping,  she  hath  risen  and  ta'en  her  flight ; 
She  hath  tempted  the  alcayde  with  her  jewels  and  her  gold, 
And  unto  her  his  prisoner,  that  jailer  false  hath  sold. 

"  She  took  Gonc.ales  by  the  hand  at  the  dawning  of  the  day, 
She  said  '  Upon  the  heath  you  stand,  before  you  lies  the  way, 
But  if  I  to  my  father  go — alas  !  what  must  I  do ! 
My  father  will  be  angry— I  fain  would  go  with  you.'  " 

It  is  perhaps  needless  to  add  that  the  fair  Dofia  Sancha 
did  go  with  the  gallant  captain,  and  in  the  lofty  cathedral 


262  WOMAN 

at  Burgos,  which  was  his  capital,  their  wedding  was  cele- 
brated in  great  state.  At  the  conclusion  of  the  marriage 
feast,  however,  Gonzalez  determined  to  punish  the  faith- 
less Garcia,  and  made  war  against  him  to  such  good  effect 
that  he  was  made  a  prisoner  and  only  released  after  the 
repeated  intercessions  of  his  sister,  Dofia  Teresa.  Why 
Gonzalez  should  have  listened  to  the  pleadings  of  Teresa 
after  her  treatment  of  him  is  rather  hard  to  imagine.  A 
still  further  proof  of  his  unsuspicious  character  is  seen  in 
the  fact  that  he  allowed  himself  to  be  inveigled  into  going 
to  Leon  to  attend  a  meeting  of  the  Cortes,  and  while  there 
he  was  again  imprisoned.  Such  was  the  sum  of  Dofia 
Teresa's  iniquity,  and  all  because  she  was  in  the  clutch  of 
the  green-eyed  monster  and  put  a  higher  value  upon  the 
glory  of  her  house  than  upon  the  glory  of  the  Christian 
arms.  This  was  the  occasion  for  the  good  wife  Dofia 
Sancha  to  show  her  courage  and  loyalty,  which  stand 
out  in  striking  contrast  to  the  treacherous  acts  of  her 
jealous  aunt.  It  was  Shakespeare  who  said:  "These 
women  are  shrewd  tempters  with  their  tongues;"  and  as 
the  alcayde  had  been  won  over  at  the  time  of  Gonzalez's 
first  captivity,  so  now  again  Dofia  Sancha  put  her  nimble 
wits  to  work  and  devised  another  plan  for  his  release. 
In  robe  of  sombre  hue,  she  set  out  upon  a  pious  pilgrimage 
to  Santiago;  and  as  her  way  lay  through  Leon,  where  her 
husband  languished  in  prison,  she  resolved  to  tarry  by  the 
way  for  a  short  while  and  visit  him  in  his  misery.  Permis- 
sion for  such  a  visit  was  slow  in  coming,  as  Dofia  Teresa 
was  resolved  this  time  that  Gonzalez  should  not  escape. 
After  much  pleading,  however,  Dofia  Sancha  had  her  way, 
and  the  prison  doors  swung  open  before  her.  Once  alone 
with  her  husband,  she  quickly  changed  clothes  with  him; 
and  the  Count  of  Castile,  in  the  garb  of  a  woman,  soon 
after  passed  the  jailers  and  found  himself  at  liberty.  By 


THE  WOMEN  OF  THE  LITTLE  MONARCHIES        263 

the  time  the  ruse  was  discovered,  he  was  leagues  away 
and  in  safety  among  his  friends.  The  wrath  of  Teresa  and 
her  son  King  Sancho  may  well  be  imagined  when  the  news 
was  brought  to  them;  but  they  resolved  to  take  the  matter 
in  a  philosophic  way,  after  the  first  moment  of  anger  had 
passed,  and  Dofia  Sancha  was  allowed  to  join  her  husband, 
going  unharmed  from  this  unfriendly  court. 

In  all  this  warring,  romantic  period  of  the  tenth  century, 
by  far  the  most  interesting  and  thrilling  tale  is  that  of 
Dofia  Lambra  and  the  Seven  Lords  of  Lara,  and  while  the 
story  is  somewhat  legendary  and  based  rather  upon  stir- 
ring ballads  than  upon  authentic  records,  it  must  not  be 
forgotten  here.  Dofia  Lambra,  a  kinswoman  of  the  Count 
of  Castile,  had  been  married  with  great  ceremony  at  Burgos 
to  Ruy  Velasquez,  brother-in-law  to  Don  Gonzalo,  Count 
of  Lara  in  the  Asturias;  and  during  the  five  weeks  of 
pleasure  and  feasting  which  celebrated  this  happy  event, 
there  were  no  knights  in  all  the  glittering  throng  more 
striking  in  appearance  and  more  admired  for  their  many 
accomplishments  than  the  seven  stalwart  sons  of  Don 
Gonzalo,  the  nephews  of  the  bridegroom,  who  were  called 
the  Seven  Lords  of  Lara.  During  the  very  last  week 
of  the  festivities  a  wooden  target  was  set  up  upon  the 
other  side  of  the  river,  and  the  knights  threw  light  Moorish 
djerrids,  or  wooden  javelins,  at  it,  each  trying  with  a  surer 
aim  to  outdo  his  fellows.  Dona  Lambra  was  an  interested 
spectator,  and  when  at  last  Alvaro  Sanchez,  one  of  her 
favorite  cousins,  struck  the  target  full  in  the  centre,  she 
was  more  than  pleased,  and  declared  that  he  was  the  best 
marksman  of  them  all.  The  Seven  Lords  of  Lara  had 
taken  no  part  in  this  contest  as  yet,  for  six  of  the  brothers 
had  been  busily  engaged  in  playing  chess,  and  the  young- 
est of  them  all,  Gonzalo  Gonzales,  had  been  standing  idly 
by.  Piqued,  however,  by  Dofia  Lambra's  praise  of  her 


264  WOMAN 

kinsman,  young  Gonzalo  threw  himself  upon  his  horse, 
rode  to  the  river's  edge,  and  hurled  his  djerrid  with  such 
force  that  he  completely  shattered  the  target  far  on  the 
other  side.  This  unexpected  turn  of  events  so  angered 
the  bride  that  she  grew  white  with  rage,  and  Alvaro  vented 
his  spleen  in  such  abusive  language  that  Gonzalo  dealt 
him  a  blow  which  struck  him  fairly  upon  the  mouth  and 
knocked  out  his  teeth.  Thereat  Dona  Lambra  cried  out 
that  no  maiden  had  ever  been  so  dishonored  at  her  wed- 
ding, and  bloodshed  was  narrowly  averted  by  the  inter- 
ference of  the  Counts  of  Castile  and  Lara.  As  it  was 
feared  that  Ruy  Velasquez  might  be  urged  on  to  vengeance 
by  his  angered  wife,  he  was  induced  to  set  out  upon  a  trip 
through  Castile  with  many  of  the  older  knights,  while  the 
Seven  Lords  of  Lara,  in  the  midst  of  a  larger  company, 
were  left  to  escort  the  bride  to  her  new  home  at  Bavar- 
diello.  Once  arrived,  the  brothers  went  into  the  garden 
of  the  palace,  where  Gonzalo,  who  was  a  devotee  of  fal- 
conry, was  engaged  in  bathing  his  favorite  hawk,  when 
suddenly,  without  warning,  one  of  Dofia  Lambra's  slaves 
rushed  upon  him  and  threw  in  his  face  a  gourd  filled  with 
blood.  In  mediaeval  Spain  this  was  a  most  deadly  insult, 
and  all  the  brothers  drew  their  swords  and  rushed  after 
the  offender.  They  came  upon  him  crouching  at  Dofia 
Lambra's  feet,  and  there  they  killed  him  without  mercy, 
so  that  his  blood  was  sprinkled  upon  her  garments.  Then, 
taking  their  mother  with  them,  they  returned  to  their 
home  at  Salas.  This  time  Dofia  Lambra  demanded  ven- 
geance in  no  uncertain  tone,  and  Ruy  Velasquez  began  to 
plot  in  her  behalf.  The  old  Count  of  Lara  was  prevailed 
upon  to  go  to  the  kalif  at  Cordova,  bearing  a  letter  from 
Velasquez  which  was  supposedly  of  political  import,  but 
which  was  intended  to  be  the  count's  death  warrant.  The 
kalif,  loath  to  put  so  brave  a  knight  to  death,  cast  him  into 


THE  WOMEN  OF  THE  LITTLE  MONARCHIES        265 

prison.  Soon  after,  he  made  an  attack  upon  the  Christians. 
Velasquez  gathered  an  army  to  oppose  him,  and  succeeded 
in  getting  the  young  Lords  of  Lara  to  join  him.  In  the 
midst  of  the  battle,  Velasquez  and  his  whole  army  de- 
serted, leaving  the  seven  youths  and  a  small  company  of 
retainers  to  fight  alone  against  the  Moorish  host.  Taken 
prisoners,  their  heads  were  cut  off  and  sent  to  Cordova, 
where  the  kalif  was  cruel  enough  to  present  them  to  their 
imprisoned  father  for  identification.  Now  let  the  ballad 
take  up  the  story: 

"  He  took  their  heads  up  one  by  one,  he  kissed  them  o'er  and  o'er; 
And  aye  ye  saw  the  tears  run  down,  I  wot  that  grief  was  sore. 
He  closed  the  lids  on  their  dead  eyes,  all  with  his  fingers  frail, 
And  handled  all  their  bloody  curls,  and  kissed  their  lips  so  pale. 

'"Oh  had  ye  died  all  by  my  side  upon  some  famous  day, 
My  fair  young  men,  no  weak  tears  then  had  washed  your  blood  away; 
The  trumpet  of  Castile  had  drowned  the  misbelievers'  hom, 
And  the  last  of  all  the  Lara's  line  a  Gothic  spear  had  borne.' 

"  With  that  it  chanced  a  man  drew  near  to  lead  him  trom  the  place, 
Old  Lara  stooped  him  down  once  more,  and  kissed  Gonzalo's  face ; 
But  ere  the  man  observed  him,  or  could  his  gesture  bar, 
Sudden  he  from  his  side  had  grasped  that  Moslem's  scymetar." 

Before  the  count  was  overpowered  he  had  killed  thirteen 
of  the  Moors,  and  then  he  begged  that  he  might  be  put  to 
death;  but  the  kalif,  on  learning  all  of  the  details  of  the 
treachery  of  Velasquez,  restored  the  count  to  liberty  and 
sent  him  back  to  his  wife  in  the  castle  at  Salas.  The  fate 
of  the  revengeful  Dofta  Lambra  is  not  recorded,  but  it  is 
to  be  hoped  that  she  was  made  to  atone  in  some  way  for 
all  her  savage  rage. 

About  Ximena  and  her  far-famed  husband  Don  Rodrigo, 
widely  known  as  the  Cid,  many  marvellous  tales  have 
been  told,  and  it  is  a  matter  for  regret  that  so  many  of 
them  are  purely  legendary.  According  to  one  of  the 


266  WOMAN 

traditions,  which  was  followed  by  the  French  dramatic  poet 
Pierre  Corneille  when  he  wrote  his  famous  play,  Le  Cid, 
in  1636,  Ximena  is  given  a  much  more  prominent  place  in 
the  story  than  that  accorded  to  her  in  history.  According 
to  this  version,  Don  Diego,  father  of  Don  Rodrigo,  is  given 
a  mortal  insult  by  the  braggart  Don  Gomez,  who  is  the 
father  of  Ximena.  Young  Don  Rodrigo,  eager  to  avenge 
the  slight  put  upon  his  aged  father,  provokes  Don  Gomez 
to  a  duel  and  kills  him.  Ximena,  who  has  loved  Don 
Rodrigo,  overcome  by  these  tragic  events,  is  at  a  loss  to 
know  what  to  do,  and  in  her  heart  there  is  a  fierce  struggle 
between  her  love  for  her  lover  and  her  respect  for  her 
father.  This  distressing  situation  is  relieved  somewhat 
by  the  thought  that  Don  Rodrigo,  in  killing  her  father,  has 
but  avenged  his  own;  but  still  her  Spanish  nature  cries 
for  redress,  and  she  appeals  to  King  Fernan  of  Castile,  at 
whose  court  all  these  things  have  taken  place.  Believing 
her  love  for  Don  Rodrigo  to  be  stronger  than  her  hatred, 
the  king  suddenly  announces  the  death  of  Rodrigo,  which 
so  surprises  Ximena  that  she  discloses  her  deep  affection, 
which  she  had  made  an  attempt  to  conceal;  whereat  he 
announces  his  intention  to  unite  the  two  lovers  as  soon  as 
Rodrigo  should  have  given  further  proof  of  his  valor. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  Cid  was  a  free-lance  of  undoubted 
bravery  and  courage,  who  fought  now  with  and  now 
against  the  Moors;  but  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  he  was  not 
always  true  to  the  same  allegiance,  he  is  essentially  a 
popular  hero,  as  he  represents  a  spirit  of  boldness  and 
independence  which  in  itself  is  enough  to  endear  him  to 
the  minds  of  the  people.  His  killing  of  Don  Gomez  in  the 
manner  described  is  extremely  doubtful,  and  history  af- 
fords no  details  as  to  the  manner  of  his  wooing  or  his 
wedding.  But  Ximena  was  his  wife,  shared  in  many  of 
his  hardships,  and  at  his  death,  in  1099,  ruled  in  his  stead 


THE  WOMEN  OF  THE  LITTLE  MONARCHIES        267 

for  three  years  at  Valencia.  Finally,  much  harried  by  the 
Moslems,  who  were  ever  growing  bolder,  Ximena  withdrew 
to  Burgos,  taking  with  her  the  body  of  the  Cid,  embalmed 
in  precious  spices,  and  borne,  as  in  the  days  of  his  vigor, 
on  the  back  of  his  great  warhorse  Babieca.  The  Cid  was 
buried  in  the  monastery  of  Cardena,  near  Burgos;  and 
there  the  brave  Dofta  Ximena  was  laid  by  his  side  at  the 
time  of  her  death,  in  1104.  Although  a  number  of  fanciful 
stories  have  been  told  about  the  daughters  of  Ximena  and 
the  doughty  Cid,  the  fact  remains  that  they  had  two 
daughters,  who  married  into  some  of  the  noblest  houses 
of  all  Spain.  The  elder,  Christina,  became  the  wife  of 
Ramiro,  Infante  of  Navarre;  while  the  younger,  Maria, 
married  Count  Ramon  Berenguer  III.  of  Barcelona.  After 
a  long  series  of  intermarriages,  to  quote  from  Burke,  in  a 
double  stream,  through  the  royal  houses  of  Spain  and  of 
France,  the  blood  of  the  Cid  is  found  to  flow  in  the  veins 
of  his  majesty  Alfonso  XIII.,  the  reigning  King  of  Spain. 

The  religious  side  of  Spanish  life  in  the  eleventh  cen- 
tury, so  far  as  Christianity  is  concerned,  centres  about  a 
woman,  Constance  of  Burgundy,  the  wife  of  King  Al- 
fonso VI.  of  Castile.  This  was  the  period  when  the  monk 
Hildebrand,  become  Pope  Gregory  VII.,  was  endeavoring 
to  unify  the  power  of  the  Roman  Church  and  strengthen 
the  authority  of  the  papacy;  and  as  he  had  a  devout 
woman,  the  Countess  Matilda  of  Tuscany,  to  aid  him  in 
Italy,  so  he  had  as  his  firm  ally  in  Spain  the  pious  Queen 
Constance,  daughter  of  King  Robert  of  France.  Constance 
was  not  a  Spanish  woman,  but  the  influence  she  exerted 
in  Spain  had  such  a  far-reaching  effect  that  she  cannot  be 
overlooked  in  any  category  such  as  the  present.  With 
Constance  to  Spain  came  the  monk  Bernard  of  Cluny,  a 
pale  ascetic,  who  had  just  been  leading  a  crusade  against  the 
corruption  existing  in  the  Church  itself,  and  whose  whole 


268  WOMAN 

life  had  been  devoted  to  serious  things.  The  French  court 
had  been  given  over  to  works  of  piety,  the  Church  had  great 
authority,  and  the  clergy  were  held  in  high  esteem.  When 
the  French  princess  left  this  devout  atmosphere  to  go  to 
sunny  Spain,  she  had  grave  misgivings  as  to  the  frivolous 
and  irreverent  character  of  her  new  subjects,  and  deemed 
it  wise  to  take  with  her  as  a  friend  and  adviser  the  stern 
Bernard.  The  worst  fears  of  these  two  zealous  Christians 
were  more  than  realized.  The  king  had  friendly  inter- 
course with  Moorish  vassals,  and  Moslem  and  Christian 
lived  side  by  side  in  perfect  harmony!  That  all  this 
should  be  and  at  a  time  when  the  same  Moslem  brood 
was  defiling  the  place  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre  in  far-off 
Palestine,  and  when  the  crusading  spirit  filled  the  air,  was 
almost  beyond  belief,  and  Constance  and  the  monk  were 
greatly  scandalized  thereat.  Totally  without  that  tolera- 
tion which  comes  with  experience,  they  could  conceive  of 
no  religion  as  a  good  religion  which  did  not  meet  the  rigid 
requirements  of  their  own  belief;  and  they  planned  at  once 
a  Spanish  crusade  which  was  intended  to  improve  the 
general  deplorable  condition  of  public  morals  and  at  the 
same  time  to  modify,  in  a  most  radical  way,  the  liturgy  of 
the  Spanish  Church,  which  was  far  too  lax  in  points  of 
discipline.  Their  conduct  at  the  time  of  the  surrender 
of  Toledo,  in  1074,  is  a  most  excellent  example  of  the 
eager,  yet  thoughtless,  way  in  which  they  went  about 
their  new  work.  When  King  Alfonso,  after  an  interval  of 
more  than  three  hundred  years,  regained  possession  of  the 
ancient  capital  of  the  Goths,  the  city  from  which  the  luck- 
less Rodrigo,  the  last  of  the  Goths,  was  driven,  Toledo 
was  surrendered  on  the  express  condition  that  the  Moors 
should  not  be  disturbed  in  their  religious  beliefs  and 
that  they  were  to  retain  the  use  of  their  mosques.  Such 
terms  with  such  an  enemy  appeared  monstrous  to  the 


THE  WOMEN  OF  THE  LITTLE  MONARCHIES        269 

queen.  Especially  did  it  seem  a  sin  before  God  that  the 
principal  mosque,  the  Alfaqui,  the  noblest  building  in  all 
that  fair  city  which  lay  stretched  out  with  many  a  gilded 
dome  and  minaret  upon  its  seven  hills  above  the  Tagus, 
should  still  be  used  for  the  worship  of  a  pagan  people;  and 
Constance  and  Bernard  plotted  together,  piously,  for  the 
triumph  of  the  true  religion.  The  first  time  that  the  king 
left  the  city,  Bernard,  now  Archbishop  of  Toledo,  acting 
under  the  authority  of  Queen  Constance,  went  to  the 
Alfaqui  at  the  head  of  a  company  of  monks  summoned 
from  his  monastery  at  Sahagun,  opened  the  doors,  set  up 
crosses,  erected  altars,  hung  bells,  and  then  publicly  sum- 
moned the  people  to  mass  on  the  following  morning.  The 
king,  upon  his  return,  was  furious  at  this  intolerant  act, 
and  was  moved  to  threaten  punishment;  but  the  Moors, 
satisfied  by  his  indignation,  displayed  a  real  spirit  of  tolera- 
tion in  asking  for  the  pardon  of  the  monks. 

The  queen  and  Bernard,  successful  in  this  first  struggle, 
continued  to  labor  incessantly  for  the  glory  of  the  Church. 
The  masterful  Pope  Gregory  VII.,  in  his  letter  addressed 
to  the  princes  of  Spain,  said:  "You  are  aware,  I  believe, 
that  from  the  earliest  times  the  kingdom  of  Spain  was  the 
special  patrimony  of  Saint  Peter,  and  although  pagans 
have  occupied  it,  it  still  belongs  to  the  same  master." 
The  King  of  Castile  was  not  bold  enough  to  deny  this 
papal  claim  of  overlordship,  and  Gregory  demanded  as 
first  proof  of  his  submission  that  he  should  substitute 
throughout  his  realm  the  Roman  liturgy  for  the  national  or 
Mozarabic  ritual  then  in  general  use.  Queen  Constance  and 
Bernard  were  in  favor  of  this  reform,  and  they  prevailed 
upon  the  king  to  accept  it;  but  it  was  a  far  different  matter 
to  secure  its  actual  use  at  the  hands  of  the  national  clergy, 
who  were  strongly  opposed  to  the  change.  In  spite  of  all 
her  efforts  the  queen  could  do  nothing,  and  finally,  as  a 


270  WOMAN 

compromise,  it  was  decided  to  submit  the  question  to  the 
ordeal  of  trial  by  battle.  Two  champions  were  duly  ap- 
pointed who  fought  before  a  most  august  assembly  over 
which  the  queen  presided.  The  Knight  of  the  Gothic 
Missal,  Don  Juan  Ruiz  de  Matanzas,  killed  the  Champion 
of  Rome,  and  was  not  only  victorious,  but  unscathed, 
much  to  the  disgust  of  Constance  and  her  followers.  The 
manifest  disinclination  to  accept  this  result  as  final  made 
another  ordeal  necessary,  and  this  time,  in  truly  Spanish 
style,  a  bull  fight  was  resolved  upon.  The  great  arena  at 
Toledo  was  selected  as  the  place  where  this  ecclesiastical 
combat  was  to  take  place,  and  on  the  appointed  day  the 
great  amphitheatre  was  crowded  with  an  expectant  multi- 
tude. The  queen,  the  king,  and  the  archbishop,  backed 
by  black-robed  monks,  looked  on  with  evident  interest, 
hoping  that  this  time  the  scales  would  turn  in  their  favor; 
but  the  people,  expert  in  contests  of  this  kind,  had  already 
picked  the  Castilian  bull  as  the  winner  and  had  begun  to 
wager  their  small  coin  as  to  the  probable  duration  of  the 
fight.  The  people  were  right,  the  Roman  toro  was  promptly 
slain,  and  once  more  the  cause  of  Spain  was  triumphant. 
But  the  queen  was  persistent,  and  in  spite  of  the  fact  that 
the  result  of  each  of  these  ordeals  was  popularly  consid- 
ered as  a  direct  sign  from  heaven,  she  refused  to  accept 
them  as  final,  because  her  pet  project  had  been  rejected. 
If  the  results  had  been  different,  there  is  little  doubt  but 
that  the  ordeals  would  have  been  received  as  infallible. 
However,  it  was  not  possible  to  cast  a  slight  upon  this 
time-honored  procedure  by  any  act  which  might  tend  to 
throw  it  into  disrepute,  so  the  whole  question  was  dropped 
for  the  space  of  seven  years.  Queen  Constance,  in  this 
interval,  carried  on  a  quiet  campaign  which  she  hoped 
would  lead  eventually  to  the  adoption  of  the  much  dis- 
cussed and  twice  rejected  liturgy,  and  at  no  time  did  she 


THE  WOMEN  OF  THE  LITTLE  MONARCHIES        271 

give  up  her  hope.  Rome,  to  her  narrow  mind,  must  reign 
supreme  in  matters  spiritual  if  the  kingdom  of  Spain  was 
to  have  relations  with  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  and  she  did 
not  hesitate  to  ride  rough-shod  over  the  national  clergy,  to 
whom  alone,  without  any  aid  whatever  from  the  pope,  the 
recent  Christian  successes  in  Spain  had  been  due.  When 
she  considered  the  time  ripe  for  some  radical  action,  Greg- 
ory sent  his  legate,  the  Cardinal  Ricardo,  to  hold  a  Church 
council  at  Burgos,  and  there  it  was  formally  decreed  that 
the  Mozarabic  ritual  must  be  put  aside  in  Castile.  Before 
the  formal  adoption  of  the  Roman  form,  however,  it  was 
decided  wise  to  resort  once  more  to  a  trial  by  ordeal,  as 
the  favorable  issue  of  such  a  public  test  would  make  it 
much  easier  to  conquer  the  prejudices  of  the  people.  This 
time,  Constance  advising  it,  the  ordeal  by  fire  was  tried, 
and,  as  Miss  Yonge  phrases  it,  "a great  pile  was  erected  in 
the  market  place  of  Toledo  for  the  most  harmless  auto  deft 
that  ever  took  place  there."  Seats  were  built  up  on  all 
sides  in  amphitheatre  fashion,  the  queen,  the  king,  the 
court,  and  the  dignitaries  of  the  two  clerical  parties  were 
there  in  special  boxes,  and  again  were  the  people  much  in 
evidence,  but  this  time  much  in  doubt  as  to  the  final  out- 
come. When  all  was  ready,  the  torch  was  applied  to  the 
pile  and  the  two  volumes  were  committed  to  the  flames. 
The  book  which  was  not  consumed  by  the  fire  was  to  be 
considered  acceptable  to  God.  To  the  chagrin  of  the  papal 
party,  the  Roman  book  was  utterly  consumed,  but  the 
Gothic  missal  came  forth  unscathed.  Although  there  was 
great  rejoicing  at  this  final  triumph  for  the  national  clergy, 
the  foreigners  were  in  control,  and  the  king,  urged  on  by 
his  wife,  decided  to  act  upon  his  own  responsibility,  with- 
out regard  for  the  manifest  judgment  of  heaven,  and  lost 
no  time  in  giving  his  signature  to  the  decree  of  the  Council 
of  Burgos,  which  then  went  into  immediate  effect.  This 


272  WOMAN 

time  the  people  made  no  resistance,  and,  as  has  been  said, 
Spain  became  once  more,  after  the  lapse  of  nearly  seven 
centuries,  the  obedient  province  of  Rome.  In  the  succeed- 
ing centuries  the  influence  of  Rome  has  been  ever  present 
and  powerful  in  the  affairs  of  the  Spanish  peninsula,  and 
whether  for  its  weal  or  woe,  which  is  not  a  matter  for  con- 
sideration here,  the  fact  remains  that  Queen  Constance 
was  the  one  person  in  Spain  who  was  most  responsible 
for  this  state  of  affairs.  Her  unflagging  interest  in  the 
success  of  the  papal  party  and  her  perseverance  in  the  face 
of  the  opposition  of  a  majority  of  the  Spanish  clergy  made 
her  the  life  of  the  whole  movement,  and  to  this  day  she  is 
held  in  grateful  memory  at  the  Holy  See. 


3Komen  m  Earls  political  Htfe 


XV 
WOMEN   IN   EARLY   POLITICAL   LIFE 

AFTER  the  time  of  the  good  Queen  Constance  and  with 
the  growth  of  the  Spanish  monarchies,  which  in  spite  of 
all  their  internal  turmoil  and  confusion  were  fast  becoming 
more  powerful  and  more  of  a  menace  to  the  Moslem  rule, 
the  wheels  of  fate  seem  to  bring  women  into  greater  polit- 
ical prominence  than  ever  before.  Constance,  it  is  true, 
had  been  no  mean  figure  in  that  epoch,  and  had  exerted  a 
most  powerful  influence  in  shaping  the  destinies  of  Spain 
for  her  own  time  and  for  the  future,  but  this  was  done  by 
an  exercise  of  indirect  rather  than  direct  authority.  Con- 
stance had  been  queen,  but  there  had  been  a  king  to  rule 
as  well,  and  with  him  remained  the  real  power.  As  Con- 
stance influenced  him,  she  may  have  been  said  to  use  this 
royal  power,  it  is  true,  but  the  fact  remains  that  it  was  the 
woman  Constance  who  was  using  her  powers  of  feminine 
persuasion  to  bring  about  the  results  which  were  so  dear 
to  her  heart.  No  political  responsibilities  rested  upon  her 
shoulders,  there  were  no  cares  of  state  to  weary  and  make 
uneasy  her  crowned  head,  and  she  was  free  to  follow  her 
own  penchants  unimpeded  by  this  larger  task.  But  now  a 
wider  field  for  the  activities  of  women  seems  to  come;  in 
Spain,  chance  gives  them  full  control  in  their  own  name 
in  certain  instances,  and  they  bear  the  full  responsibility. 

275 


276  WOMAN 

The  measure  of  their  success  may  not  be  greater  than  the 
measure  of  their  failure  in  these  new  lines  of  endeavor, 
but,  good  or  bad  as  their  methods  of  administration  may 
have  been,  it  does  not  appear  that  they  fall  below  the 
level  of  masculine  achievement  at  the  same  time.  And 
this  is  a  curious  thing.  Since  the  birth  of  time  men  have 
been  regarding  women  as  weaklings,  both  mentally  and 
physically.  Tennyson  has  it  that  "woman  is  the  lesser 
man,"  and  such  has  been  the  commonly  expressed  opinion. 
Everything  in  the  social  life  of  the  world  has  conspired  to 
give  truth  to  this  statement:  women  are  still  the  real 
slaves  of  their  husbands  in  many  countries,  and  the  virt- 
ual slaves  in  almost  all  the  world;  education  has  been 
granted  to  them  grudgingly,  the  scope  of  their  intellect  has 
been  limited  in  the  narrowest  way;  and  in  spite  of  all 
these  facts,  in  spite  of  this  suppression  and  repression 
from  time  immemorial,  women  have  been  able  by  some 
power  or  some  cunning  to  exert  a  most  powerful  influence  in 
the  world,  and  when  called  upon  to  take  up  a  man's  work 
they  have  left  a  record  for  judgment  and  skill  and  wisdom 
which  needs  no  apologies  and  which  is  generally  above  the 
average.  To  those  who  are  content  with  generalities  it 
may  be  sufficient  to  say  that  women  are  not  the  equals  of 
men,  but  to  anyone  who  attempts  to  study,  step  by  step, 
the  history  of  human  development  it  becomes  apparent 
that  the  French  admonition  Cherche^  lafemme  contains  the 
truth,  unalloyed.  In  America  it  has  become  the  custom 
to  say  that  in  every  great  national  emergency  there  is 
always  a  man  ready  to  meet  the  situation  and  meet  it 
nobly  and  with  understanding;  and  what  can  be  said  here 
can  be  said  with  equal  truth  perhaps  in  other  countries  of 
the  world,  but  to  this  statement  it  may  be  well  to  add  that 
women  also  may  be  found  to  do  nobly  the  tasks  which, 
may  fall  to  their  lot. 


WOMEN  IN  EARLY  POLITICAL  LIFE  277 

In  every  day  and  generation,  however,  it  will  rarely  be 
found  that  the  women  are  better  than  the  men.  The 
interests  of  men  and  women  are  so  identical  from  so  many 
points  of  view,  society  is  in  so  many  ways  but  a  composite 
of  their  common  interests,  that  their  moral  level  must  of 
necessity  be  the  same.  By  intuition,  then,  by  inherent 
capacity,  by  woman's  wit,  by  that  something  feminine 
which  is  at  once  the  power  and  the  charm  of  a  woman,  the 
members  of  this  so-called  weaker  sex  have  been  able  to 
take  their  place  worthily  beside  their  brothers  in  the  open 
field  of  the  world's  activities  whenever  circumstance  has 
called  them  forth,  without  the  inheritance,  the  education, 
or  the  experience  which  the  men  possess,  but  morally  they 
can  but  be  as  society  makes  them.  There  are  exceptions 
to  all  rules,  however;  some  women  as  well  as  some  men 
may  be  better  or  worse  than  the  majority  of  their  fellows, 
and  these  are  the  ones  who  are  signalled  out  by  the  histo- 
rian for  special  attention.  The  people  who  are  always 
good  and  always  happy  have  no  history,  as  there  is  noth- 
ing noteworthy  to  tell  of  them,  life  has  no  tragedies,  all  is 
plain  sailing,  and  the  whole  story  can  be  told  in  a  few 
words.  In  a  measure  the  same  thing  is  true  of  the  ordi- 
nary man,  be  he  good  or  bad,  for  what  can  be  said  of  him 
can  be  said  of  a  whole  class,  and  so  the  history  of  the  class 
may  be  told,  but  the  individual  will  always  remain  in  the 
background. 

In  the  special  epoch  of  Spanish  history  with  which  the 
present  chapter  is  concerned,  the  twelfth  century  and  the 
first  part  of  the  thirteenth,  there  is  little  to  say  of  women 
in  general  which  cannot  be  said  of  the  mediaeval  women  of 
other  parts  of  Europe.  Oriental  ideas  had  been  intro- 
duced to  some  extent,  it  is  true,  by  the  Moors,  but  other- 
wise the  general  ignorance  and  dependence  of  the  women 
of  the  time  call  for  no  special  comment.  Above  this 


2/8  WOMAN 

commonplace  level  there  are  to  be  seen,  nevertheless, 
two  women  who  occupied  a  commanding  position  in  the 
world,  which  was  quite  unusual.  They  were  both  queens 
of  Castile,  and  as  one  was  bad,  vain,  reckless,  and  frivo- 
lous, so  was  the  other  good,  unselfish,  wise,  and  dignified. 
Within  the  extremes  of  character  which  their  lives  pre- 
sent is  traced  the  measure  of  a  woman's  possibilities  at 
that  time. 

Urraca  of  Castile,  daughter  of  Constance  and  King 
Alfonso  VII.,  inherited  little  of  her  mother's  devout  nature; 
the  world  rather  than  the  Church  had  attracted  her,  and 
she  began  to  show  at  an  early  age  a  taste  for  gallantry 
and  intrigue  which  became  but  more  pronounced  with  her 
maturer  years.  She  was  dark  rather  than  fair,  with  an 
imperious  bearing,  she  had  compelling  eyes,  and  there  was 
a  grace  in  her  movements  which  it  was  difficult  to  see 
without  admiring,  but  she  was  vain,  intent  upon  conquest, 
and  without  an  atom  of  moral  firmness,  if  all  accounts  be 
true.  Her  mother  was  sorely  tried  by  her  waywardness, 
but  did  not  live  long  enough  to  appreciate  her  real  lack 
of  moral  instinct;  and  her  father,  in  spite  of  his  several 
marriages,  which  were  almost  as  numerous  as  those  of 
Henry  VIII.  of  England,  was  chagrined  to  find  Urraca  as 
his  sole  heir,  no  other  children  having  survived.  In  the 
hope  that  France  might  again  furnish  material  for  a  digni- 
fied alliance  as  it  had  done  before  in  sending  Constance 
herself,  Alfonso  arranged  for  the  marriage  of  Urraca  with 
Raymond  of  Burgundy.  Urraca  was  soon  left  a  widow, 
with  one  son,  Alfonso;  and  while  she  apparently  felt  some 
affection  for  this  child,  she  was  in  no  way  weaned  from 
her  love  of  excitement,  and  was  soon  again  the  soul  and 
centre  of  the  court's  gay  revels.  One  among  the  throng 
of  courtiers  attracted  her,  the  tall  Count  Gomez  of  Can- 
despina,  and  she  made  no  secret  of  her  love  for  him.  As 


WOMEN  IN  EARLY  POLITICAL  LIFE  279 

often  seen  together,  they  formed  a  striking  pair,  and  it 
was  not  strange  that  the  Castilian  nobles  should  have 
wished  to  see  them  married,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the 
prospective  bridegroom  was  not  her  equal  by  birth.  No 
one  dared  to  give  Alfonso  this  advice,  however,  as  his 
refusal  was  a  foregone  conclusion,  all  things  being  taken 
into  consideration.  Finally,  the  Jewish  physician  of  the 
court,  Don  Cidelio,  allowing  his  interest  in  the  affair  to 
get  the  better  of  his  discretion,  ventured  to  speak  to  the 
king  about  Urraca  and  her  lover.  Alfonso,  indignant,  was 
so  displeased,  that  Don  Cidelio  was  banished  from  the 
court  at  once,  while  he  arranged  forthwith  a  political  mar- 
riage which  was  full  of  possibilities  for  Spain's  future 
welfare.  Alfonso,  in  his  long  reign,  which  had  lasted  for 
forty-three  years,  had  given  such  a  great  impetus  to  the 
movement  of  reconquest  directed  against  the  Moors,  that 
a  strong  and  capable  successor  could  have  completed  his 
work  and  hastened  the  final  Christian  victory  by  some 
four  hundred  years.  Alfonso  was  far-seeing  enough  to 
know  the  possibilities  ahead,  and  it  is  easy  to  understand 
and  sympathize  with  his  rage  at  the  mere  thought  of  the 
dapper,  silken  Candespina.  So  the  rebellious  Urraca,  with 
her  heart  full  of  love  for  Count  Gomez,  was  married,  and 
just  before  her  father's  death  in  1109,  to  King  Alfonso  I., 
called  el  batallador  [the  battler],  and  known  as  the  Em- 
peror of  Aragon.  This  union  of  Castile,  Leon,  and  Aragon 
would  have  promised  much  for  the  future,  if  the  rulers  of 
this  united  kingdom  could  have  lived  in  peace  and  har- 
mony together.  They  were  so  unlike  in  every  way,  how- 
ever, that  it  was  easy  to  predict  trouble.  The  Battler 
was  a  youth  of  great  military  skill  and  great  ambition, 
but  he  was  not  a  courtier  in  any  sense  of  the  word  and 
could  not  be  compared  in  Urraca's  eyes  with  her  carpet 
knight,  Don  Gomez.  So  she  was  loath  to  change  her 


280  WOMAN 

mode  of  life,  and  he  was  in  a  state  of  constant  irritation 
at  her  worldliness;  and  as  a  natural  consequence  of  it  all, 
after  a  year  of  turmoil  and  confusion,  the  two  separated. 
Content  to  lose  his  wife,  Alfonso  was  quite  unwilling  to 
lose  her  broad  domain,  and  consequently  Aragonese  gar- 
risons were  installed  in  some  of  the  principal  Castilian 
fortresses,  while  Urraca,  a  prisoner,  was  confined  in  the 
fortress  of  Castelar.  This  was  too  much  for  the  Castilians 
to  endure;  so  they  at  once  took  up  arms  in  their  queen's 
defence  and,  furthermore,  demanded  a  divorce  on  the 
ground  that  Urraca  and  Alfonso  were  within  the  proscribed 
limits  of  consanguinity,  as  they  were  both  descended  from 
Sancho  the  Great,  of  Navarre.  While  there  was  much 
in  the  queen's  character  which  the  Castilian  people  could 
not  admire,  they  had  never  approved  of  her  marriage  with 
the  batallador,  and  were  only  too  happy  to  have  this  ex- 
cuse for  severing  the  ties  which  bound  the  two  countries 
together.  Urraca  was  rescued  from  her  captivity,  and 
proceeded  without  delay  to  annoy  her  husband  in  every 
manner  possible.  Her  honored  father's  prime  minister 
was  deposed  and  his  estates  confiscated,  Don  Gomez  was 
given  this  high  post  and  treated  as  an  acknowledged  favor- 
ite, and  most  shamelessly,  and  the  whole  country  was 
shocked.  But  matters  of  self-defence  were  now  of  first 
importance  to  the  Castilians,  and  so  they  were  compelled 
to  overlook  her  misconduct  for  the  moment  and  prepare  to 
withstand  the  irate  Alfonso's  threatened  invasion.  He 
invited  Henry,  Count  of  Portugal,  the  brother  of  Urraca's 
first  husband, — and  her  son's  guardian, — to  aid  him  in  this 
attack,  and  together  they  invaded  Castile  and  inflicted  a 
complete  defeat  upon  Urraca's  army  at  the  battle  of  Sepul- 
veda  in  the  year  mi.  The  pope,  Pascal  II.,  sent  a 
legate,  who  granted  the  divorce  for  which  the  Castilians 
had  clamored;  and  Urraca,  again  a  free  woman,  was  now 


WOMEN  IN  EARLY  POLITICAL  LIFE  281 

the  centre  of  her  own  little  court,  where  she  soon  gathered 
about  her  a  small  company  of  nobles  who  were  vying  with 
each  other  to  obtain  her  royal  favor.  Two  among  them, 
Count  Gomez  of  Candespina,  and  Pedro,  a  member  of  the 
great  and  powerful  Lara  family,  hoped  to  marry  her,  but 
she  coquetted  with  them  all  to  such  good  purpose  that 
she  succeeded  in  keeping  their  good  will  by  leaving  them 
all  in  uncertainty  as  to  her  serious  intentions. 

At  this  moment  a  new  element  appeared  in  the  settle- 
ment of  public  affairs.  For  the  first  time  in  the  history 
of  Spain,  the  privileged  towns  and  cities,  which  had 
been  granted  special  charters  by  the  late  Alfonso,  Urraca's 
father,  rose  in  their  might  and  declared  that  Urraca  should 
be  deposed  and  that  her  youthful  son,  Alfonso  Ramon, 
should  be  crowned  in  her  stead.  Seeing  this  turn  of 
affairs,  Henry  of  Portugal,  the  young  Alfonso's  guardian, 
decided  that  he  might  best  serve  his  own  interests  by 
siding  with  the  Castilians  against  the  Battler,  and  he  lost 
no  time  in  making  this  transfer  of  his  allegiance.  Castile 
and  Leon  were  still  harried  by  the  divorced  husband,  who 
now  had  no  legal  claim  upon  them,  and  there  was  a  general 
consolidation  of  national  interests  for  the  national  defence, 
while  the  conflicting  interests  with  regard  to  the  succes- 
sion within  the  country  were  at  the  same  time  pressing 
for  settlement  and  producing  a  state  of  strife  and  conten- 
tion which  was  little  short  of  civil  war.  In  the  midst  of  it 
all,  Urraca  continued  to  play  the  wanton,  and  soon  so 
disgusted  the  Count  of  Portugal  that  he  deserted  her 
standard.  This  he  did  on  the  eve  of  the  great  battle  of 
Espina,  in  the  year  1112.  Urraca  still  counted  upon  the 
devotion  of  her  nobles,  but  Lara  fled  from  the  field,  the 
prime  favorite  Candespina  was  killed,  and  the  revengeful 
husband  gained  another  victory.  It  was  soon  evident, 
however,  that  Alfonso  of  Aragon  could  never  meet  with 


282  WOMAN 

complete  success  in  his  attempt  to  subdue  Castile,  and  he 
wisely  gave  up  the  struggle  after  a  few  more  years  of 
desultory  fighting.  Urraca  was  now  in  a  tight  place,  and 
in  spite  of  all  her  arts  and  wiles  she  was  unable  to  gather 
about  her  again  a  party  strong  enough  to  command  re- 
spect. Candespina  and  Lara  were  no  longer  by  her  side, 
the  other  nobles  had  lost  patience  with  her  constant  in- 
triguing, and  the  popular  party,  backed  by  the  towns, 
soon  gained  the  ascendency,  and  Urraca  was  compelled  to 
resign  in  favor  of  her  son.  From  this  moment  she  sinks 
into  obscurity,  and  little  more  is  known  of  her  unhappy 
and  profligate  career  besides  the  fact  that  she  came  to  her 
end,  unregretted,  in  1126.  According  to  the  ancient  Laws 
of  Manu,  "  it  is  in  the  nature  of  the  feminine  sex  to  seek 
here  below,  to  corrupt  men,"  and  Menander  has  said,  sen- 
tentiously,  "where  women  are,  are  all  kinds  of  mischief." 
While  no  one  at  the  present  time,  unless  he  be  some  con- 
firmed woman-hater,  will  be  so  ungallant  as  to  attempt  to 
maintain  the  truth  of  these  sweeping  statements,  there 
must  have  been,  at  various  times  and  places  in  the 
world,  women  of  the  kind  indicated,  as  Queen  Urraca 
of  Castile,  for  example,  or  these  things  would  never  have 
been  said. 

The  great-grandson  of  Urraca,  Alfonso  III.  of  Castile, 
received  as  his  heritage  the  usual  complement  of  strife  and 
warfare  which  belonged  to  almost  all  of  the  little  Spanish 
monarchies  throughout  the  greater  part  of  the  twelfth  cen- 
tury; but  in  the  year  1170,  arriving  at  his  majority,  he 
entered  into  a  friendly  treaty  of  peace  with  Aragon,  and 
in  that  same  fortunate  year  he  married  the  Princess  Elea- 
nor, daughter  of  the  English  king,  Heny  II.  Apropos  of 
this  marriage  and  its  general  effect  upon  the  fortunes 
of  Castile,  Burke  has  written  the  following  interesting 
sentences:  "  Up  to  the  time  of  this  happy  union,  the  reign 


WOMEN  IN  EARLY  POLITICAL  LIFE  283 

of  Alfonso  III.  in  Spain  had  been  nothing  but  a  succession 
of  intrigues  and  civil  wars  of  the  accustomed  character; 
but  from  the  day  of  his  marriage  in  1170  to  the  day  of  his 
death  in  1214,  after  a  reign  of  no  less  than  fifty-six  years, 
he  exercised  the  sovereign  power  without  hindrance,  if  not 
entirely  without  opposition,  within  his  dominions.  If  the 
domestic  tranquillity  of  Castile  during  four-and-forty  years 
may  not  be  attributed  exclusively  to  the  influence  of  the 
English  queen,  yet  the  marriage  bore  fruits  in  a  second 
generation,  of  which  it  would  be  difficult  to  exaggerate  the 
importance;  for  it  was  the  blood  of  the  Plantagenets,  that 
flowed  in  the  veins  of  Berenguela,  their  daughter,  one  of 
the  true  heroines  of  Spain." 

In  this  instance,  as  in  the  case  of  the  good  Constance  of 
Burgundy,  we  see  that  Spain  has  been  sobered  and  stead- 
ied by  an  infusion  of  foreign  blood.  Constance,  it  is  true, 
was  a  fanatic  who  cared  little  for  the  national  desires,  and 
thought  little  of  adapting  herself  to  the  national  conditions 
of  life,  so  long  as  she  could  further  her  own  ends,  which 
were  those  of  the  pope  at  Rome;  and  so  stern  and  strict 
was  her  view  of  life,  and  so  rigid  was  her  discipline,  that 
it  was  impossible  for  her  to  reconcile  the  lighter-minded 
Spaniards  to  her  mode  of  thinking.  For  a  short  time,  by 
drastic  methods,  she  subdued  to  some  extent  the  frivolous 
temper  of  her  people;  but  she  was  so  unlovable  in  her 
ways,  and  so  unloved  by  the  people  at  large,  that  the  sum 
total  of  her  influence  upon  Spanish  life,  apart  from  the 
somewhat  questionable  advantage  which  she  gave  to  Rome 
as  the  result  of  her  activity,  amounted  to  very  little.  Even 
her  own  daughter,  Urraca,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  she 
undoubtedly  inherited  more  from  her  father  than  she  did 
from  her  mother,  was,  beyond  peradventure,  rendered 
more  wayward  and  more  reckless  by  the  mother's  narrow 
view  of  life.  The  gracious  Eleanor,  on  the  other  hand, 


284  WOMAN 

was  more  liberal-minded,  did  everything  in  her  power  to 
get  into  touch  with  her  subjects,  and  by  her  kindliness  and 
strength  of  character  was  able  to  aid  her  husband  in  no 
mean  degree  in  quieting  civil  discord  and  in  consolidating 
the  interests  of  the  country. 

Her  daughter  Berenguela,  brought  up  in  the  midst  of 
these  influences,  developed  a  strong  and  self-reliant  char- 
acter which  early  in  her  career  gave  proof  of  its  existence. 
In  accord  with  that  policy  which  has  so  often  obtained  in 
the  monarchies  of  Europe,  it  was  decided  that  a  foreign 
alliance  with  some  strong  ruling  house  would  redound  to 
advantage;  and  so  great  was  the  prestige  of  Castile  at 
this  time,  that  Alfonso  found  no  difficulty  in  arranging  a 
marriage  with  Conrad,  Count  of  Suabia,  the  son  of  the 
great  Emperor  Frederick  Barbarossa.  As  might  have 
been  expected,  this  marriage  was  nothing  but  a  political 
arrangement  which  was  to  benefit  Castile,  and  in  which 
the  will  of  Berenguela,  the  person  most  interested,  had  not 
been  consulted  in  any  manner  whatever.  It  is  not  on 
record  that  Eleanor  was  opposed  to  this  arrangement  for 
her  daughter,  not  from  any  lack  of  independent  spirit, — 
for  she  came  of  a  self-willed  race,  as  the  erratic  life  of  her 
brother,  Richard  Coeur  de  Lion,  will  show, — but  because 
such  marriages  were  the  common  lot  of  the  royal  maidens 
of  her  time  and  were  accepted  as  matters  of  necessity.  It 
must  be  remembered  that  the  ideals  of  marriage  were  yet 
much  undeveloped  and  that  "husband"  and  "lover"  were 
rarely,  if  ever,  synonymous  terms.  It  appears  that  the 
emperor  not  only  consented  to  this  marriage  between  his 
son  and  Eleanor's  daughter,  but  was  much  in  favor  of  the 
project  and  more  than  anxious  to  see  the  consummation 
of  it  all,  as  Eleanor  had  brought  Gascony  to  her  husband 
as  a  marriage  portion,  and  the  prospective  inheritance  of 
Berenguela  was  a  goodly  one. 


WOMEN  IN  EARLY  POLITICAL  LIFE  285 

Fortunately  for  Berenguela,  the  marriage  was  postponed 
until  she  had  attained  her  majority;  and  when  that  day  of 
•partial  freedom  came,  she  boldly  declared  that  she  would 
not  marry  the  German  prince,  that  she  did  not  know  him 
and  did  not  love  him,  and  that  nothing  could  force  her  to 
such  a  bargain  of  herself.  Great  was  the  consternation  in 
her  father's  court,  and  great  was  the  dismay  in  the  North 
when  Frederick  Barbarossa  was  told  of  this  haughty  Span- 
ish maiden  who  refused  the  honor  of  an  alliance  with  his 
imperial  house.  The  case  was  well-nigh  unique;  the 
mediaeval  world  was  startled  in  its  traditional  routine,  and 
Berenguela's  audacity  became  the  talk  of  every  court  in 
Europe.  Prayers  and  entreaties  were  in  vain,  so  firmly 
did  she  stand  her  ground  in  spite  of  the  countless  specious 
arguments  which  were  used  to  bend  her  will,  and,  finally, 
the  matter  was  dropped  and  considered  a  closed  incident. 
"  Woman  sees  deep;  man  sees  far.  To  the  man  the  world 
is  his  heart;  to  the  woman  the  heart  is  her  world;"  so 
says  Christian  Grabbe,  and  this  epigram  may  well  be  ap- 
plied to  Berenguela's  case.  Her  heart  was  her  world,  and 
she  fought  for  it,  and  in  her  victory  she  won,  not  only  for 
herself,  but  for  Spain  as  well.  And  it  came  about  in  this 
way.  Berenguela  was  married,  and  with  her  own  consent, 
to  Alfonso  IX.,  King  of  Leon,  who  had  of  late  made  war 
upon  her  father,  and  with  this  marriage  and  the  peace 
which  followed  between  the  two  countries,  Spain  prospered 
for  a  time. 

This  Alfonso  of  Leon  had  already  made  one  marriage 
venture  which  had  come  to  grief,  for  he  had  previously 
wedded  the  Princess  Teresa  of  Portugal,  and  his  marriage 
had  been  forcibly  dissolved  by  Pope  Innocent  III.,  who 
was  then,  as  Hume  puts  it,  "  riding  rough-shod  over  the 
nations  of  Christendom."  This  divorce  had  been  pro- 
nounced on  the  ground  that  the  young  couple  were  too 


286  WOMAN 

closely  related  to  each  other;  and  as  they  ventured  to 
resist,  they  were  for  a  time  excommunicated.  So  Alfonso 
and  Teresa  were  finally  separated,  though  not  until  several 
children  had  been  born  to  them,  and  then  the  young  king 
led  Berenguela  to  the  altar.  This  marriage,  in  its  imme- 
diate result,  was  but  a  repetition  of  what  had  gone  before. 
The  pope  annulled  it  promptly  on  the  same  grounds  of 
consanguinity,  and  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  every  plea  for  re- 
consideration. The  case  was  not  an  unusual  one;  many 
marriages  which  were  far  less  regular  in  form  had  been 
sanctioned  by  this  new  Roman  Cassar;  and  the  result  of 
the  marriage  could  be  but  for  the  benefit  of  Rome,  as 
domestic  peace  in  Spain  gave  assurance  of  more  successful 
opposition  to  the  Moslem  rule.  But  the  pope  was  firm,  his 
holy  permission  had  not  been  obtained  before  the  marriage 
had  been  celebrated,  and,  piqued  at  this  unintended  slight 
which  had  been  put  upon  his  august  authority,  he  revealed 
his  littleness  by  this  show  of  spite. 

Rebellious  under  this  harsh  decree  because  of  its  mani- 
fest injustice,  Alfonso  and  Berenguela  endeavored  to  hold 
out  against  the  pontiff,  and  for  seven  years  they  lived 
together  as  man  and  wife,  making  their  home  in  Leon. 
Their  life  was  to  some  degree  a  happy  one  together,  chil- 
dren were  born  to  them,  but  ever  about  their  path  was  the 
shadow  of  doubt  that  was  cast  by  the  pope's  decree.  As  a 
sad  and  pitiful  end  to  it  all,  Berenguela,  a  mother  though 
not  a  wife,  was  forced  to  return  to  her  father's  court  in 
Castile,  leaving  the  eldest  son,  Fernando,  with  the  father. 
In  but  one  thing  had  the  pope  shown  any  mercy  for  this 
wedded  pair,  and  that  was  when  he  had  consented  to 
recognize  the  legitimacy  of  their  children;  so  Fernando 
could  now  be  considered,  without  any  doubt,  as  the  right- 
ful heir  to  Leon.  Meanwhile,  Alfonso  III.  of  Castile, 
Berenguela's  father,  had  won  new  laurels  at  the  great 


WOMEN  IN  EARLY  POLITICAL  LIFE  287 

battle  known  as  the  Navas  de  Tolosa,  where  the  Moors 
had  suffered  a  crushing  defeat,  and  Castile  was  more  than 
ever  the  leading  Spanish  power.  But  soon  after  Beren- 
guela's  arrival,  her  father  went  to  his  long  rest,  and  the 
crown  descended  to  his  oldest  son,  Enrico,  who  was  but  a 
boy  of  ten.  Queen  Eleanor  was  first  intrusted  with  the 
administration  of  affairs,  but  she  soon  followed  her  hus- 
hand,  dying  within  a  month  after  this  power  had  been 
conferred  upon  her,  and  the  regency  passed  by  common 
consent  to  the  prudent  care  of  Berenguela,  who  was, 
according  to  Hume,  "the  fittest  ruler  in  all  Spain,  the  most 
prudent  princess  in  all  Christendom."  This  regency, 
however,  was  not  a  time  of  peace  and  quiet,  for  the  death 
of  the  old  king  had  given  opportunity  for  the  turbulent 
Lords  of  Lara  to  break  forth  again  in  open  revolt,  and  after 
a  year  of  ineffectual  resistance  Berenguela  was  compelled, 
in  the  interests  of  domestic  harmony,  to  surrender  the 
person  of  her  young  brother  into  the  control  of  Alvaro 
Nufiez,  the  leader  of  the  opposition,  who  at  once  began  to 
rule  the  kingdom  with  a  heavy  hand.  What  Berenguela's 
fate  would  have  been  and  what  Castile's  if  this  usurper 
had  been  allowed  to  remain  for  a  long  time  in  power  is  a 
matter  for  conjecture,  but  Alvaro's  dreams  of  success  were 
soon  shattered.  Through  some  whim  of  fate  it  happened 
that  the  young  king  was  accidentally  killed  one  morning 
as  he  was  at  play  in  the  courtyard  of  the  palace,  and 
Berenguela,  as  the  only  lawful  heir,  became  the  Queen  of 
Castile  in  her  own  right.  In  this  trying  moment,  clear- 
headed as  usual,  she  gave  further  proof  of  her  astuteness. 
She  realized  that  her  husband  might  in  some  way  try  to 
make  political  capital  out  of  the  situation  and  might  try 
to  work  in  his  own  interests  rather  than  in  those  of  their 
son.  For  the  young  Fernando,  recognized  as  heir  to  Leon, 
would  now,  as  the  prospective  ruler  of  Castile,  be  heir  to 


288  WOMAN 

a  larger  estate  than  that  of  his  father,  and  Alfonso  was 
not  a  man  big  enough  to  rejoice  in  this  fact,  as  Berenguela 
well  knew.  Accordingly,  she  sent  speedy  messengers  to 
Alfonso  before  the  news  of  the  death  of  the  young  King 
Enrico  had  reached  him,  and  asked  that  her  son  might 
come  to  her  for  a  visit.  The  invitation  was  innocent 
enough,  to  all  appearances,  and  the  request  was  granted, 
but  no  sooner  was  the  young  prince  safe  within  the  boun- 
daries of  Castile  than  Berenguela  called  a  meeting  of  the 
States-General  of  her  kingdom,  and  there,  after  having 
received  the  homage  of  her  nobles,  in  the  midst  of  a  most 
brilliant  gathering,  she  announced  her  intention  of  abdi- 
cating in  favor  of  her  son,  the  heir  to  Leon.  There  was 
some  objection  to  this  move,  as  Berenguela  was  so  univer- 
sally beloved  that  all  were  loath  to  lose  her  from  the  sov- 
ereign's chair.  She  took  great  pains  to  point  out  to  them  the 
advantage  which  would  undoubtedly  accrue  to  the  country 
as  the  result  of  this  prospective  union  with  Leon,  assured 
them  that  her  interests  would  ever  be  theirs,  and  that  she 
would  at  all  times  counsel  her  son  and  help  him  in  every 
way  within  her  power;  and  finally,  her  will  prevailed  and 
the  abdication  was  approved. 

Alfonso  of  Leon  was  more  than  irate  when  he  learned 
of  young  Enrico's  death  and  realized  the  meaning  of  his 
son's  visit  to  Castile,  and  he  immediately  collected  a  large 
army  and  declared  war  upon  his  son.  Berenguela  had 
foreseen  this  as  the  probable  result  of  her  course  of  action 
and  was  not  entirely  unprepared  in  the  emergency.  The 
ultimate  peace  and  prosperity  which  might  come  to  Spain 
with  the  definite  union  of  Castile  and  Leon  were  matters 
of  such  importance  in  her  eyes  that  she  did  not  now  hesi- 
tate to  give  of  her  personal  wealth,  even  her  jewels,  as 
Isabella  did  in  a  later  day,  to  further  the  interests  of  the 
cause  for  which  she  was  contending.  The  goodness  and 


WOMEN  IN  EARLY  POLITICAL  LIFE  289 

sweetness  of  character  possessed  by  this  great  queen  made 
such  an  impression  upon  all  those  who  came  within  the 
circle  of  her  influence,  and  her  cause  was  so  manifestly 
just,  that  her  troops  were  filled  with  the  zeal  which  knows 
no  defeat,  and  the  conflict  was  a  short  one.  Through 
Berenguela's  diplomatic  action  the  war  was  brought  to  an 
end,  harmony  was  restored  between  Castile  and  Leon, 
and  the  united  armies  of  the  two  countries  were  sent  into 
southern  Spain  to  make  further  attack  upon  the  Moorish 
strongholds. 

Now  comes  an  interesting  moment  in  the  queen's  career, 
the  moment  when  she  was  planning  with  all  her  wisdom 
for  her  son's  marriage  and  his  future  success.  The  in- 
terminable commotion  and  discord,  the  vexatious  factional 
quarrels,  and  the  undying  hatreds  which  had  been  engen- 
dered by  a  long  series  of  Spanish  intermarriages,  had  so 
filled  her  with  disgust  that  she  determined,  now  that  the 
union  of  Castile  and  Leon  was  practically  complete,  to  go 
outside  of  this  narrow  circle  in  her  search  for  a  suitable 
mate  for  the  young  King  Fernando.  Her  choice  fell  upon 
the  Princess  Beatrice  of  Suabia,  cousin  of  the  emperor  and 
member  of  the  same  house  which  she  had  scorned  in  her 
younger  days.  But  the  Princess  Beatrice  was  fair  and 
good,  the  young  people  were  eager  for  the  marriage,  and 
there  was  no  good  reason  why  the  thing  should  not  be 
done.  Before  this  wedding,  Berenguela  decided  that  her 
son  must  be  received  into  the  order  of  knighthood.  There 
was  the  customary  period  of  courtly  ceremony,  with  games 
and  gay  festivals  and  much  feasting,  which  lasted  for 
several  days,  and  then  came  the  sacred,  final  rites,  which 
ended  with  the  accolade.  The  youthful  king  and  would-be 
knight  was  taken,  all  clothed  in  white,  by  two  "grave  and 
ancient"  chevaliers  to  the  chapel  of  the  monastery  of  Las 
Huelgas,  near  the  old  city  of  Burgos,  and  there,  having 


2QO  WOMAN 

placed  his  arms  piously  upon  the  altar,  he  passed  the 
night  alone,  "bestowing  himself  in  orisons  and  prayers." 
When  the  daybreak  came,  he  confessed  to  a  priest,  heard 
matins,  and  then  went  to  rest  and  prepare  himself  for  the 
final  scene.  When  he  was  at  length  brought  back  to  the 
chapel,  there  was  a  most  imposing  company  awaiting  him, 
composed  of  all  the  knights  of  Castile  and  many  others 
from  far  distant  countries  who  had  come  to  wage  war 
against  the  Moors;  and  in  the  presence  of  them  all,  from 
the  sanctified  hands  of  his  noble  mother,  came  the  magic 
touch  which  made  a  man  of  him.  The  next  day,  in  the 
great  cathedral  at  Burgos,  the  wedding  was  celebrated,  for 
the  German  princess  had  come  to  Spain  for  the  function, 
and  there  was  much  pomp  and  much  show  of  silks  and 
brocades  and  the  glitter  of  gold  and  silver  was  backed  by 
the  glitter  of  steel. 

Soon  King  Fernando  was  in  the  saddle  again,  riding  away 
toward  the  south,  leading  a  great  host  of  knights,  and  one 
Moorish  town  after  another  fell  into  their  hands.  While 
besieging  Jaen,  Fernando  learned  of  his  father's  death, 
which  had  occurred  suddenly.  Berenguela  summoned  her 
son  to  return  with  all  possible  speed,  but  without  waiting 
for  his  arrival  she  set  out  at  once  for  Leon,  thinking  that 
there  might  be  work  to  do.  Nor  was  she  wrong.  Alfonso 
of  Leon,  jealous  of  his  wife's  great  renown  and  his  son's 
growing  success,  and  knowing  that  the  union  of  Castile 
and  Leon  was  her  most  cherished  project,  deliberately  left 
Leon  to  his  two  daughters,  Sancha  and  Dulce,  children  of 
his  first  marriage,  with  Teresa  of  Portugal,  perfectly  sure 
that  their  claims  could  not  find  adequate  legal  support,  as 
these  children  had  never  been  legitimized  after  the  pope's 
annulment  of  this  marriage,  but  contented  at  the  thought 
that  he  had  probably  left  an  inheritance  of  dispute  and  possi- 
ble warfare  which  might  be  sufficient  to  make  Berenguela's 


WOMEN  IN  EARLY  POLITICAL  LIFE  291 

plans  miscarry.  But  in  this  he  reckoned  without  his  host. 
Berenguela  conducted  her  affairs  with  the  utmost  dis- 
cretion, conciliated  the  Leonese  nobility,  caused  her  son 
to  be  proclaimed  king,  and  brought  about  a  permanent 
union  of  the  two  countries  without  the  loss  of  a  single  drop 
of  blood.  Having  accomplished  this  task,  her  next  care 
was  to  provide  in  some  suitable  way  for  Alfonso's  two 
daughters.  This  she  was  under  no  obligation  to  do,  but 
her  sense  of  justice  left  no  other  course  of  conduct  open 
to  her.  She  arranged  a  meeting  with  their  mother  Teresa, 
who  had  long  since  retired  to  a  convent,  and,  journeying 
to  the  Portuguese  frontier,  at  Valencia  de  Alcantara  in 
Galicia,  these  two  women,  each  the  unwedded  wife  of 
the  same  man,  came  together  to  settle  the  claims  of  their 
children  to  their  dead  husband's  throne.  The  whole  matter 
was  discussed  in  the  most  friendly  way,  and  Berenguela 
was  able  to  carry  her  point  that  there  should  be  no  attempt 
to  unseat  Fernando  from  the  throne  of  Leon,  and  at  the 
same  time  she  made  a  proposition,  by  way  of  indemnity, 
which  Teresa,  speaking  for  her  daughters,  was  quite  ready 
to  accept.  The  infantas  were  given  by  Fernando  a  pen- 
sion of  fifteen  thousand  gold  doubloons,  in  return  for  which 
they  formally  agreed  to  abandon  all  claim  to  Leon,  and 
this  pension,  under  Berenguela's  direction,  was  paid  in  all 
faith  and  honor.  In  November  of  the  year  1246  this  great 
queen  died,  and,  according  to  her  own  direction,  she  was 
buried  at  Burgos  "in  plain  and  humble  fashion." 

No  better  eulogy  of  her  life  and  labors  can  ever  be 
written  than  that  which  is  found  in  Burke's  history  of 
Spain,  and  no  excuse  is  needed  forgiving  it  in  its  entirety: 
Berenguela  was  one  of  those  rare  beings  who  seems  to 
have  been  born  to  do  right  and  to  have  done  it.  From 
her  earliest  youth  she  was  a  leading  figure,  a  happy  and 
noble  influence  in  one  of  the  most  contemptible  and 


2Q2  WOMAN 

detestable  societies  of  mediaeval  Christendom.  Married  of 
her  own  free  will  to  a  stranger  and  an  enemy,  that  she 
might  bring  peace  to  two  kingdoms,  she  was  ever  a  true 
and  loyal  wife;  unwedded  by  ecclesiastical  tyranny  in  the 
very  flower  of  her  young  womanhood,  she  was  ever  a 
faithful  daughter  of  the  Church;  inheriting  a  crown  when 
she  had  proved  her  own  capacity  for  royal  dominion,  she 
bestowed  it  on  a  strange  and  absent  son,  with  no  thought 
but  for  the  good  of  her  country  and  of  Christendom;  and 
finally,  as  queen-mother  and  ever  faithful  counsellor,  she 
accepted  all  the  difficulties  of  government,  while  the  glory 
of  royalty  was  reserved  for  the  king  whom  she  had  created. 
Berenguela  was  ever  present  in  the  right  place,  and  at  the 
proper  time,  and  her  name  is  associated  only  with  what  is 
good  and  worthy  and  noble  in  an  age  of  violence  and 
wrong  and  robbery;  when  good  faith  was  well-nigh  un- 
known, when  bad  men  were  all-powerful,  when  murder 
was  but  an  incident  in  family  life,  and  treason  the  chief 
feature  in  politics. 


®f)^teentf)  antr  jpourteentf) 
Centuries 


XVI 

THE    THIRTEENTH    AND    FOURTEENTH 
CENTURIES 

IN  the  early  days  of  the  thirteenth  century,  Pedro  II.  of 
Aragon  had  married  the  somewhat  frivolous,  yet  devout, 
Maria  of  Montpellier,  whose  mother  had  been  a  Greek 
princess  of  Constantinople;  and  when  a  son  was  born  of 
this  marriage,  Maria,  who  foresaw  a  great  future  for  her 
child,  was  most  desirous  that  he  should  have  an  Apostolic 
patron.  There  was  the  embarrassment  of  the  choice, 
however,  as  Maria  did  not  wish  to  neglect  or  cast  a  slight 
upon  eleven  saints  while  giving  preference  to  one,  and, 
finally,  the  queen's  father  confessor,  Bishop  Boyl,  devised 
the  following  plan.  Twelve  tapers,  each  consecrated  to 
an  Apostle,  were  to  be  lighted,  and  the  child  was  to  be 
named  in  honor  of  the  candle  which  burned  the  longest. 
Southey,  in  somewhat  prolix  and  doggerel  verse,  has  given 
the  following  account  of  the  ceremony: 


"The  tapers  were  short  and  slender  too, 

Yet  to  the  expectant  throng, 
Before  they  to  the  socket  burnt, 
The  time,  I  trow,  seemed  long. 

"  The  first  that  went  out  was  St.  Peter, 

The  second  was  St.  John, 
And  now  St.  Mattias  is  going, 
And  now  St.  Mathew  is  gone. 

295 


296  WOMAN 


"  Next  there  went  St  Andrew, 

Then  goes  St  Philip  too ; 
And  see,  there  is  an  end 
Of  St.  Bartholomew. 

"St.  Simon  is  in  the  snuff, 

But  it  is  a  matter  of  doubt, 
Whether  he  or  St.  Thomas  could  be  said, 
Soonest  to  have  gone  out 

"  There  are  only  three  remaining, 

St.  Jude  and  the  two  Saints  James, 
And  great  was  then  Queen  Mary's  hope, 
For  the  best  of  all  good  names. 

"  Great  was  then  Queen  Mary's  hope, 

But  greater  her  fear,  I  guess, 
When  one  of  the  three  went  out, 
And  that  one  was  St.  James  the  less. 

"  They  are  now  within  less  than  quarter  inch, 

The  only  remaining  two, 
When  there  came  a  thief  in  St  James, 
And  it  made  a  gutter  too. 

"  Up  started  Queen  Mary, 
Up  she  sate  in  her  bed, 

•  I  can  never  call  him  Judas,' 

She  clasped  her  hands  and  said. 

•  I  never  can  call  him  Judas  I ' 

Again  did  she  exclaim. 
'  Holy  Mother,  preserve  us ! 
It  is  not  a  Christian  name.' 

"She  opened  her  hands  and  clasped  them  again, 

And  the  infant  in  the  cradle 
Set  up  a  cry,  a  lusty  cry, 
As  loud  as  he  was  able. 

"  '  Holy  Mother,  preserve  us  I' 

The  Queen  her  prayer  renewed, 
When  in  came  a  moth  at  the  window, 
And  fluttered  about  St.  Jude. 


THIRTEENTH  AND  FOURTEENTH  CENTURIES        297 

"  St.  James  had  fallen  in  the  socket, 
But  as  yet  the  flame  is  not  out, 
And  St.  Jude  hath  singed  the  silly  moth, 
That  flutters  so  idly  about. 

"  And  before  the  flame  and  the  molten  wax, 

That  silly  moth  could  kill, 
It  hath  beat  out  St.  Jude  with  its  wings, 
But  St.  James  is  burning  still. 

"  Oh,  that  was  a  joy  for  Queen  Mary's  heart, 

The  babe  is  christened  James, 
The  Prince  of  Aragon  hath  got, 
The  best  of  all  good  names. 

"Glory  to  Santiago, 

The  mighty  one  in  war, 
James  he  is  called,  and  he  shall  be 
King  James  the  Conqueror. 

"  Now  shall  the  Crescent  wane, 

The  Cross  be  set  on  high, 
In  triumph  upon  many  a  mosque, 
Woe,  woe  to  Mawmetry  1" 

So  Jayme  the  youth  was  named,  Jayme  being  the  popu- 
larly accepted  Aragonese  form  for  James,  and  early  in  life 
he  entered  upon  an  active  career  which  soon  showed  him 
to  possess  a  strong  and  crafty  nature,  though  he  was  at 
the  same  time  brutal,  rough,  and  dissolute.  In  his  various 
schemes  for  conquest  and  national  expansion,  he  stopped 
at  nothing  which  might  ensure  the  success  of  his  under- 
takings, and  in  particular  did  he  attempt  by  matrimonial 
ventures  of  various  kinds  to  increase  his  already  large 
domain.  This  rather  unusual  disregard  of  the  sacredness 
of  the  marriage  relation,  even  for  that  time,  may  have 
been  induced  to  some  extent  by  the  atmosphere  in  which 
he  passed  his  youthful  days;  for  his  mother,  the  devout 
Queen  Maria,  in  spite  of  all  her  pious  zeal  for  the  Church, 
was  pleasure-loving,  and  in  the  excitement  of  court  life  it 


298  WOMAN 

was  whispered  that  she  had  looked  with  favor  more  than 
once  upon  some  gallant  troubadour  from  Provence  who  had 
written  verses  in  her  honor.  Jayme's  first  marriage  was 
with  Eleanor  of  Castile,  Berenguela's  sister,  but  when  he 
discovered,  that  the  young  Castilian  king,  Fernando,  was 
strong  and  capable  and  that  there  was  no  possibility  what- 
ever of  an  ultimate  union  of  Aragon  and  Castile,  at  least 
within  his  own  time,  he  promptly  divorced  Eleanor,  and 
then  wedded  Yolande,  the  daughter  of  King  Andrew  of 
Hungary.  Yolande's  eldest  son,  Pedro,  was  married  to 
Constance,  daughter  of  King  Manfred  of  Sicily,  for  purely 
political  reasons;  and  when  the  King  of  France  opposed 
this  alliance  as  one  detrimental  to  the  best  interests  of  the 
pope,  who  was  being  much  aided  at  this  time  by  Gallican 
support,  Jayme  cleverly  silenced  this  complaint  by  marry- 
ing his  daughter  Isabel  to  Philip,  the  French  dauphin. 
This  daring  King  of  Aragon  had  dreams  of  a  great  Romance 
Empire  which  might  extend  all  over  the  southern  part  of 
Europe,  with  Aragon  as  its  centre,  and  it  was  to  this  end 
that  he  bent  all  his  energies.  While  he  was  not  able  to 
realize  this  fond  hope,  he  was  remarkably  successful;  and 
not  a  little  of  his  success  must  be  attributed  to  his  lack 
of  sentiment  and  his  practical  view  of  the  matrimonial 
question. 

With  his  conquests  and  the  corresponding  prosperity 
which  is  to  be  seen  in  Castile  at  the  same  general  period, 
Christian  Spain  slowly  became  the  most  civilized  and  en- 
lightened country  in  all  Europe.  Spain  was  rich,  there 
was  much  culture  and  refinement,  and  her  artistic  manu- 
factures excited  the  wonder  of  the  world.  With  the 
knights  who  were  coming  in  ever  increasing  numbers  to 
do  battle  against  the  Moors,  now  that  the  time  of  the 
Crusades  had  passed,  there  came  a  goodly  number  of 
the  troubadours  and  minstrels  who  had  recently  been 


THIRTEENTH  AND  FOURTEENTH  CENTURIES        299 

driven  from  Provence  by  the  cruel  Simon  de  Montfort  at 
the  time  of  the  Albigensian  massacres,  and  the  whole  con- 
dition of  Spanish  society  was  such  that  the  stern  simplicity 
of  the  early  Spaniards  quickly  disappeared.  So  great  was 
the  craze  for  poetry  and  for  glittering  entertainments  and 
a  lavish  display  of  wealth,  that  Don  Jayme  felt  called 
upon  to  take  some  restraining  measures.  Aragon,  as  well 
as  Castile,  was  filled  with  the  wealth  of  captured  Moorish 
cities,  there  was  a  new  sense  of  national  security  with 
each  successive  Christian  victory,  luxuries  of  all  kinds 
were  being  brought  within  the  reach  of  the  people  as  the 
result  of  a  newly  aroused  spirit  of  commercialism,  and,  all 
in  all,  to  a  warlike  king,  the  situation  was  fraught  with 
danger.  Accordingly,  Jayme  determined  to  take  matters 
into  his  own  hands,  and  he  proceeded  to  issue  a  number 
of  sumptuary  laws  which  were  far  from  mild.  Food  was 
regulated,  minstrels  were  not  allowed  to  sit  at  the  same 
table  with  ladies  and  gentlemen,  most  rigid  rules  were 
formulated  against  the  abuse  of  gold,  silver,  and  tinsel 
trimmings  on  the  dresses  of  the  women,  and  of  the  men 
as  well,  and  the  use  of  ermine  and  of  all  fine  and  costly 
furs  was  carefully  restricted.  In  Castile  the  same  move- 
ment was  taking  place,  and  Alfonso  X.,  who  followed 
Fernando,  issued  similar  laws,  wherein  women  were  for- 
bidden to  wear  any  bright  colors,  to  adorn  their  girdles 
with  pearls,  or  to  border  their  skirts  with  either  gold  or 
silver  thread.  As  in  Italy  at  about  the  same  time,  and 
notably  in  Florence,  extravagant  wedding  feasts  were  con- 
demned, no  presents  of  garments  were  permitted,  and  the 
whole  cost  of  a  bride's  trousseau  could  not  exceed  sixty 
maravedis,  a  maravedi  being  a  gold  coin  containing  about 
sixty  grains  of  the  yellow  metal. 

It  was  in  the  midst  of  this  brilliant  period  of  national  well- 
being  that  Spain  was  called  upon  to  celebrate  a  wedding 


300  WOMAN 

festival  which  far  surpassed  in  magnificence  anything 
that  had  ever  before  been  seen  among  the  Christians  of 
the  peninsula.  The  sister  of  King  Alfonso  X.  of  Castile, 
Eleanor,  was  given  in  marriage  to  Edward  Plantagenet, 
the  attractive  young  heir  to  the  English  throne,  and  it  was 
in  honor  of  this  event  that  all  Burgos  was  in  gala  dress  in 
the  month  of  October,  1254.  All  were  on  tiptoe  with 
excitement,  crowds  thronged  into  the  old  cathedral  city, 
and  the  windows  and  housetops  were  black  with  people, 
on  that  eventful  day  when  the  stalwart  prince  rode  in 
through  the  great  gate,  with  a  glittering  train  of  nobles  at 
his  back,  to  claim  his  bride.  Prince  Edward  was  a  mag- 
nificent specimen  of  physical  manhood,  towering  almost 
head  and  shoulders  above  his  fellows,  and  the  gorgeous 
entertainments  which  were  prepared  for  him  and  his  fol- 
lowers gave  good  opportuiaity  for  all  to  witness  his  courtly 
grace  and  his  distinguished  bearing.  The  chronicles  of  the 
time  are  full  of  the  most  superlative  descriptions  of  this 
whole  affair,  and  often  they  seem  lost  in  wonderment,  lack- 
ing words  with  which  to  describe  the  scene  properly.  Be- 
fore the  wedding,  in  accord  with  mediaeval  custom,  Edward 
received  knighthood  at  the  hands  of  King  Alfonso.  In  that 
same  old  monastery  at  Las  Huelgas  where  the  youth 
Fernando  had  kept  his  lonely  vigil  before  he  had  been 
knighted  by  his  noble  mother,  Queen  Berenguela,  the 
English  prince  now  kept  his  watch;  and  when  the  morning 
came  and  he  stood,  tall  and  fair,  clothed  in  a  robe  of  white, 
ready  to  receive  the  accolade,  before  a  company  of  chosen 
knights  and  ladies,  the  scene  must  have  been  wonderfully 
impressive.  The  bride,  Eleanor,  had  been  a  great  favorite 
with  all  her  people,  of  both  high  and  low  degree,  and  all 
were  glad  to  see  that  the  future  seemed  to  smile  upon  her. 
A  worthy  companion  to  the  wise  Berenguela  is  found  in 
the  person  of  Maria  de  Molina,  the  wife  of  Sancho  IV., 


THIRTEENTH  AND  FOURTEENTH  CENTURIES        301 

called  the  Ferocious,  King  of  Castile.  His  reign,  which 
had  extended  over  a  period  of  eleven  years,  came  to  a 
close  with  his  death  in  the  year  1295,  and  in  all  that  time 
there  had  been  nothing  but  discord  and  confusion,  warfare 
and  assassination,  as  Sancho's  claim  to  the  throne  had 
been  disputed  by  several  pretenders,  and  they  lost  no 
occasion  to  harass  him  by  plot  and  revolution.  It  may 
well  be  imagined,  then,  that  when  he  died,  leaving  his 
throne  to  his  son  Fernando,  a  child  of  nine,  the  situation 
was  most  perplexing  for  the  queen-mother,  who  had  been 
made  regent,  by  the  terms  of  her  husband's  will,  until 
Fernando  should  become  of  age.  A  further  matter  which 
tended  to  complicate  the  situation  was  the  fact  that  the  mar- 
riage between  Sancho  and  Maria  had  never  been  sanctioned 
by  the  pope,  as  the  two  were  within  the  forbidden  limits 
of  consanguinity,  and  he  had  refused  to  grant  his  special 
dispensation.  With  this  doubt  as  to  her  son's  legitimacy, 
Maria  was  placed  in  a  position  which  was  doubly  hard, 
and  if  she  had  not  been  a  woman  of  keen  diplomacy  and 
great  wisdom,  she  would  never  have  been  able  to  steer  her 
ship  of  state  in  safety  amid  so  many  threatening  dangers. 
Her  first  care  was  to  induce  the  pope  to  grant,  after  much 
persuasion,  the  long-deferred  dispensation  which  legalized 
her  marriage;  and  this  matter  settled,  she  was  ready  to 
enter  the  conflict  and  endeavor  to  maintain  her  rights. 
The  first  to  attempt  her  overthrow  was  the  Infante  Juan, 
the  young  king's  uncle,  who  made  an  alliance  with  the 
Moorish  king  of  Granada  and  assumed  a  threatening  atti- 
tude. Maria  sent  against  him  her  greatest  nobles,  Haro, 
and  the  Lords  of  Lara;  but  she  had  been  deceived  in  the 
loyalty  of  these  followers,  as  they  promptly  deserted  the 
regent's  cause  and,  with  all  their  men,  went  over  to 
the  insurgents  and  helped  to  make  more  powerful  the 
coalition  which  was  forming  against  the  infant  king.  For 


302  WOMAN 

a  brief  moment  Maria  was  in  despair  and  felt  almost  ready 
to  yield  in  the  face  of  the  opposition,  as  the  hostile  com- 
bination now  included  Portugal,  Aragon,  Navarre,  France, 
and  Granada,  and  it  was  their  intent  to  separate  the  king- 
doms of  Leon  and  Castile  if  possible  and  undo  all  that 
Berenguela  had  labored  so  hard  and  with  such  success  to 
accomplish.  Inasmuch  as  this  was,  above  all  else,  a  quar- 
rel which  concerned  the  nobility,  a  contention  which  had 
its  rise  in  the  jealousy  and  mutual  distrust  of  several 
powerful  houses,  Maria,  with  a  keen  knowledge  of  the 
situation,  and  with  a  sagacity  which  was  rather  surprising 
in  a  woman  untrained  in  politics  or  government,  decided 
to  win  to  her  side  the  great  mass  of  the  common  people, 
with  whom  she  had  always  lived  in  peace  and  harmony. 
Her  first  act  was  to  call  a  meeting  of  the  Cortes  in  Val- 
ladolid,  which  was  the  only  city  upon  which  she  could 
depend  in  this  crisis.  The  Cortes  speedily  acknowledged 
Fernando  IV.  as  king,  and  with  this  encouragement  Maria 
de  Molina  set  bravely  about  her  arduous  task  of  organiza- 
tion and  defence.  Few  of  the  nobles  rallied  to  her  sup- 
port, but  she  soon  won  over  the  chartered  towns  by  the 
liberal  treatment  she  accorded  them  in  matters  of  taxation 
and  by  her  protection  of  the  various  civic  brotherhoods 
which  had  been  organized  by  the  people  that  they  might 
defend  themselves  from  the  injustice  of  the  nobility,  which 
was  now  showing  itself  in  countless  tyrannical  and  petty 
acts.  She  labored  early  and  late,  conducted  her  govern- 
ment in  a  most  businesslike  manner,  convoked  the  Cortes 
in  regular  session  every  year,  and  by  the  sheer  force  of 
her  integrity  and  her  moral  strength  she  finally  quelled  all 
internal  disturbances  and  brought  back  the  government  to 
its  former  strength  and  solidity.  In  the  year  1300  Fer- 
nando was  declared  king  in  his  own  right,  at  the  age  of 
fourteen,  and  then,  for  a  short  time,  it  looked  as  if  all 


THIRTEENTH  AND  FOURTEENTH  CENTURIES         303 

that  the  regent  had  sought  to  accomplish  might  suddenly 
be  nullified.  The  king,  inclined  to  be  arrogant,  and  with 
his  head  somewhat  turned  as  the  result  of  his  sudden 
accession  to  power,  was  prevailed  upon  to  listen  to  evil 
counsellors,  who  tried  in  every  way  to  make  him  believe 
that  Maria  had  administered  her  regency  with  an  eye  to 
her  own  interests,  and  that  much  of  the  revenue  which 
legally  belonged  to  him  had  been  diverted  to  her  own 
private  uses.  Fernando,  in  spite  of  all  his  mother's  good- 
ness, was  simple  enough  to  believe  these  idle  tales,  and,  in 
most  unfilial  and  suspecting  fashion,  he  sternly  ordered 
Maria  to  render  up  a  detailed  account  of  her  stewardship 
during  his  minority.  Maria  was  much  affected  by  this 
thoughtless  and  inconsiderate  act,  but  before  she  had  had 
time  to  reply  or  attempt  her  own  defence  in  any  way,  a 
storm  of  indignation  broke  forth  from  the  free  towns,  and 
Fernando  was  informed  that  he  would  not  be  allowed  to 
enter  the  town  of  Medina  del  Campo,  where  the  Leonese 
Cortes  was  to  be  held,  unless  he  restored  his  mother  to 
favor  and  brought  her  with  him  to  the  assembly.  Fer- 
nando knew  enough  to  fear  the  veiled  threat  which  this 
communication  contained,  and  the  queen-regent  appeared 
with  him  at  the  opening  of  the  session.  The  scene  which 
followed  is  pathetic  in  the  extreme,  and  shows  the  mag- 
nanimity and  unselfishness  of  Maria  in  a  most  striking 
manner.  She  spoke  to  the  members  of  the  Cortes,  re- 
called their  former  struggles  against  the  encroachments  of 
the  nobles,  and  urged  them  to  prudent  action,  that  there 
might  be  no  further  occasion  for  domestic  strife.  Loyalty 
to  country  and  to  king  were  the  keynotes  of  her  speech, 
and  before  she  had  finished,  those  who  had  assembled  in 
anger,  ready  to  renounce  their  allegiance  on  account  of 
Fernando's  shameful  treatment  of  his  mother,  were  now 
willing  to  forgive  and  pardon  for  that  same  mother's  sake. 


304  WOMAN 

This  point  once  established  and  a  loyal  following  secured, 
Maria  proceeded  to  give  in  detail  that  account  of  her  stew- 
ardship which  had  been  called  for,  and  she  had  no  trouble  in 
showing  that  her  administration  had  been  above  reproach. 
Then  it  was  that  Fernando  made  public  acknowledgment 
of  the  fact  that  he  had  been  led  astray  by  evil-minded 
advisers;  and  the  Cortes  adjourned,  faithful  to  the  king 
and  more  than  ever  devoted  to  his  mother.  At  Fernando's 
death  in  1312,  Maria  de  Molina  was  again  called  to  the 
regency,  so  great  was  her  reputation  for  wisdom  and  fair 
play;  and  when  she  ended  her  public  career,  in  1324,  all 
hastened  to  do  honor  to  her  memory,  and  she  was  called 
Maria  the  Great,  a  title  which  has  never  been  bestowed 
upon  any  other  queen-regent  in  Spain.  Her  reputation 
for  goodness  was  unchanged  by  the  lapse  of  time,  her 
goodness  stands  approved  to-day,  and  two  dramatists, 
Tirso  de  Molina  and  Roca  de  Togores,  have  depicted  her 
as  a  heroine  in  their  plays. 

Under  the  reign  of  Alfonso  XI.,  Castile  was  rent  by  two 
factions,  one  in  support  of  the  king's  wife,  Maria  of  Portu- 
gal, and  the  other  friendly  to  his  beautiful  mistress,  Leonora 
de  Guzman.  When  a  youth  of  seventeen,  Alfonso  had 
fallen  captive  to  the  charms  of  the  fair  Leonora;  but  his 
grandmother,  Maria  de  Molina,  actuated  by  political  mo- 
tives, had  forced  him  to  marry  the  Infanta  Maria  of  Portu- 
gal. What  might  have  been  expected  came  to  pass:  Maria 
was  the  queen  in  name,  but  Leonora  was  the  queen  in 
fact.  After  three  years  had  passed  and  no  heir  to  the 
throne  had  been  born,  Alfonso  threatened  to  plead  his 
kinship  as  a  reason  and  get  a  divorce;  but  Leonora,  antici- 
pating the  trouble  into  which  this  might  plunge  the  coun- 
try, as  Alfonso  was  eager  to  marry  her  as  soon  as  the 
divorce  should  have  been  granted,  urged  him  not  to  bring 
about  this  separation  and  did  all  in  her  power  to  make  him 


THIRTEENTH  AND  FOURTEENTH  CENTURIES         305 

abide  by  the  arrangement  which  had  been  made  for  him. 
Nevertheless,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  two  sons  were  finally 
born  to  Maria  and  the  succession  was  assured,  Leonora 
was  by  far  the  most  influential  woman  in  the  kingdom, 
and  was  in  every  way  better  fitted  to  rule  as  queen  than 
the  neglected  Maria.  Leonora  had  her  court  and  her 
courtiers,  and  had  not  only  the  love  but  the  respect  and 
confidence  of  the  king,  and  exercised  a  considerable  inter- 
est in  affairs  of  state  for  a  space  of  twenty  years.  So 
established  was  her  position  at  the  court,  that  she  was 
allowed  unhindered  to  found  an  order  of  merit,  whose 
members  wore  a  red  ribbon  and  were  called  Caballeros  de 
la  Banda.  This  order  was  for  the  promotion  of  courtesy 
and  knightly  behavior,  as  it  seems  that  there  was  still 
much  crudity  of  manner  in  Castile;  and  according  to  Miss 
Yonge,  the  ceremonious  Arabs  complained  that  the  Castil- 
ians  were  brave  men,  but  that  they  had  no  manners,  and 
entered  each  other's  houses  freely  without  asking  permis- 
sion. Finally,  after  the  battle  of  Salado  in  1340,  which 
was  a  great  triumph  for  Alfonso  and  the  Christians,  the 
king  was  induced  to  part  definitely  with  his  mistress. 
Maria,  the  true  wife,  had  long  been  jealous  of  her  power 
and  had  lost  no  opportunity  to  bring  about  her  downfall. 
In  the  course  of  their  long  relationship  Leonora  had  borne 
ten  children  to  the  king,  and  her  beauty,  if  accounts  be 
true,  was  in  no  way  impaired;  but,  as  he  grew  older, 
Alfonso  could  see  more  clearly  the  complications  which 
might  ensue  if  he  persisted  in  this  double  course;  and  so, 
with  a  heavy  heart,  he  consented  to  the  separation,  but 
not  without  having  given  to  Leonora  the  well-fortified  city 
of  Medina-Sidonia,  while  her  children  were  so  well  pro- 
vided for  that  the  royal  revenues  were  sadly  depleted. 
With  the  death  of  Alfonso  in  1350  came  the  opportunity 
which  Queen  Maria  had  long  since  sought  in  vain,  an 


306  WOMAN 

opportunity  for  revenge.  Leonora  was  summoned  to  Se- 
ville, that  Maria  might  consult  with  her  with  regard  to  the 
interests  of  her  children;  and  when  the  one-time  mistress 
showed  some  disinclination  to  accept  this  invitation  and 
gave  evident  signs  of  distrust,  two  noblemen  of  Maria's 
following  pledged  their  honor  for  her  safety.  Assured  by 
this  show  of  good  faith,  Leonora  went  to  Seville  as  she 
had  been  summoned,  but  no  sooner  had  she  entered  the 
walls  of  the  city  than  she  was  made  a  prisoner  at  Maria's 
order,  dragged  about  in  chains  after  the  court,  which  was 
travelling  to  Burgos,  and  finally  she  was  sent  to  Talavera, 
where  she  met  an  ignominious  death  at  the  hands  of  a 
servant,  who  cruelly  strangled  her.  Strange  to  say,  this 
act  caused  no  special  comment  at  the  time,  for,  in  spite 
of  Leonora's  general  popularity,  her  influence  had  been  of 
such  incalculable  harm  to  Maria  and  her  followers  in  more 
ways  than  one,  that  their  revenge  was  taken  somewhat  as 
a  matter  of  course.  Maria,  however,  in  this  display  of  sav- 
agery, had  done  more  than  she  had  anticipated;  for,  although 
she  had  continually  tried  to  excite  her  son  to  this  revenge 
upon  her  rival,  her  desire  for  bloody  satisfaction  had  been 
satisfied  at  Leonora's  death,  and  she  now  tried  to  have 
Pedro  treat  Leonora's  sons  as  his  own  brothers,  but  all  to 
no  purpose.  Young  Pedro  was  cruel  by  nature;  the  early 
training  which  he  had  received  from  her  hands  had  in  no 
way  softened  him,  and  as  a  natural  result,  when  he  came 
to  the  throne  and  became  his  own  master,  he  soon  made 
himself  known  and  feared  by  his  many  terrible  and  wicked 
deeds;  and  so  marked  did  this  fierce  trait  of  character 
appear,  that  he  was  ever  known  as  Pedro  the  Cruel,  much 
to  his  mother's  shame. 

"If  you  ever  feel  disposed,  Samivel,  to  go  a-marryin* 
anybody, — no  matter  who, — just  you  shut  yourself  up  in 
your  own  room,  if  you've  got  one,  and  pison  yourself 


THIRTEENTH  AND  FOURTEENTH  CENTURIES         307 

off-hand," — such  was  the  sententious  advice  of  the  elder 
Weller,  as  recorded  by  Charles  Dickens  in  the  immortal 
pages  of  the  Pickwick  Papers;  and  investigation  will  show 
that  in  all  literatures,  from  the  earliest  times,  similar 
warnings  have  been  uttered  to  men  who  contemplated 
matrimony.  A  Tuscan  proverb  says:  "  In  buying  horses 
and  in  taking  a  wife,  shut  your  eyes  tight  and  commend 
yourself  to  God;"  and  a  sage  of  Araby  has  remarked: 
"  Before  going  to  war,  say  a  prayer;  before  going  to  sea, 
say  two  prayers;  before  marrying,  say  three  prayers;" 
but  the  majority  of  men  since  the  world  began  have  been 
content  to  close  their  eyes  tightly  or  utter  their  three 
prayers  and  take  the  goods  the  gods  provide.  Pedro  the 
Cruel  was  no  exception  to  this  rule,  and  his  capricious 
ventures  in  search  of  married  bliss  would  fill  many  pages. 
According  to  Burke,  "  he  was  lawfully  married  in  1352  to 
the  lady  who  passed  during  her  entire  life  as  his  mistress, 
Maria  de  Padilla;  he  was  certainly  married  to  Blanche  of 
Bourbon  in  1353;  and  his  seduction,  or  rather  his  violation, 
of  Juana  de  Castro  was  accomplished  by  a  third  profana- 
tion of  the  sacrament,  when  the  Bishops  of  Salamanca  and 
Avila,  both  accessories  to  the  king's  scandalous  bigamy, 
pronounced  the  blessing  of  the  Church  upon  his  brutal 
dishonor  of  a  noble  lady."  Whether  Pedro  was  ever 
married  to  Maria  de  Padilla  is  still  an  open  question,  but, 
if  not  his  wife,  she  was  his  mistress  for  many  years  and 
had  great  power  over  him.  The  details  of  all  this  life  of 
intrigue  are  somewhat  confused,  but  enough  is  known  to 
make  it  clear  that  Pedro  was  as  cruel  in  love  as  in  war 
and  politics. 

The  queen-mother,  ignorant  of  her  son's  marriage  to 
Maria  de  Padilla,  or  deciding  to  ignore  it,  prevailed  upon 
Pedro  to  ask  for  the  hand  of  Blanche,  the  daughter  of  the 
Duke  of  Bourbon,  and  sister  to  Jeanne,  wife  to  Charles, 


308  WOMAN 

the  heir  of  France.  His  request  was  granted,  and  the 
king  sent  his  half-brother,  the  Master  of  Santiago,  one  of 
Leonora's  sons,  to  fetch  the  bride  to  Spain.  While  this 
journey  was  being  made,  Pedro  fell  in  love  with  one  of  the 
noble  ladies  in  waiting  of  Dofia  Isabel  of  Albuquerque,  and 
so  great  was  his  passion  for  this  dark-eyed  damsel  that  it 
was  with  difficulty  that  he  could  be  prevailed  upon  to 
leave  her  and  go  to  greet  the  French  princess  when  she 
finally  arrived  in  Valladolid.  But  he  tore  himself  away, 
went  to  Blanche,  and  was  married  with  great  pomp  and 
ceremony.  Some  had  said  before  the  marriage  that  Maria 
de  Padilla  must  have  bewitched  Pedro,  so  great  was  his 
infatuation;  and  three  days  after  the  wedding  a  strange 
thing  happened,  which  caused  people  to  shake  their  heads 
again  and  suggest  the  interference  of  the  powers  of  sor- 
cery. For,  after  this  short  time,  Pedro  rode  away  from 
Valladolid  and  his  new  queen  and  went  to  Montalvao, 
where  Maria  de  Padilla  was  waiting  to  receive  him.  Just 
what  had  happened,  it  is  somewhat  difficult  to  discover, 
and  the  story  is  told  that  the  king,  listening  to  scandalous 
talk,  was  made  to  believe  that  his  royal  messenger  and 
half-brother,  Fadrique,  had  played  the  role  of  Sir  Tristram 
as  he  brought  the  lady  back,  and  that  she  had  been  a 
somewhat  willing  Isolde.  There  were  others  who  said 
that  Blanche,  knowing  the  king's  volatile  disposition  and 
of  his  relations  with  the  notorious  Maria,  had  endeavored 
upon  the  eve  of  her  marriage  to  seek  aid  from  the  arts  of 
magic  in  her  effort  to  win  the  love  of  her  husband,  and  had 
obtained  from  a  Jewish  sorcerer  a  belt  which  she  was  told 
would  make  Pedro  faithful,  kind,  and  true.  But  the  story 
goes  on  to  say  that  this  wizard  had  been  bribed  by  Maria 
de  Padilla;  and  when  the  king  tried  on  the  girdle  which 
his  wife  presented,  it  forthwith  was  changed  into  a  hideous 
serpent,  which  filled  him  with  such  disgust  that  he  could 


THIRTEENTH  AND  FOURTEENTH  CENTURIES         309 

no  longer  bear  the  sight  of  her.  Don  Alfonso  of  Albu- 
querque, who  had  first  introduced  Pedro  to  Maria  de  Padilla, 
now  tried  to  take  her  away  from  him,  in  the  hope  that  he 
might  be  prevailed  upon  to  return  to  his  wife,  the  unfor- 
tunate Blanche.  This  so  angered  the  king  that  he  resolved 
upon  Don  Alfonso's  death,  and  if  it  had  not  been  for  the 
timely  warning  given  by  Maria,  this  gentleman  would  cer- 
tainly have  been  assassinated.  This  action  on  Maria's  part, 
however,  was  the  occasion  for  a  fresh  outburst  of  anger; 
and  Pedro  left,  wooed  Dofia  Juana  de  Castro  in  stormy 
fashion,  and  induced  her  to  marry  him,  on  the  statement 
that  he  had  made  a  secret  protest  against  Blanche  and  that 
the  pope  would  soon  annul  this  marriage.  Thomas  Hardy 
has  said  that  the  most  delicate  women  get  used  to  strange 
moral  situations,  and  there  must  have  been  something  of 
this  in  Juana's  makeup,  or  she  would  never  have  been 
forced  into  so  shameful  a  position;  but,  however  that  may 
be,  she  was  made  to  rue  the  day,  as  the  king  left  her  the 
next  morning  for  Maria,  his  Venus  Victrix,  and  never  went 
to  see  her  again,  although  he  gave  her  the  town  of  Duefias 
and  allowed  her  to  be  addressed  as  "  queen."  The  chron- 
icles of  the  time  tell  of  the  remarkable  beauty  of  Maria 
and  of  the  adulation  she  enjoyed  in  the  heyday  of  her 
prosperity.  As  an  instance  of  the  extreme  gallantry  of 
the  courtiers,  we  are  informed  that,  with  King  Pedro,  it 
was  their  custom  to  attend  the  lovely  favorite  at  her  bath 
and,  upon  her  leaving  it,  to  drink  of  its  water. 

The  fate  of  Blanche  was  still  hanging  in  the  balance. 
Pedro,  on  leaving  her  so  abruptly,  had  left  orders  that  she 
be  taken  to  his  palace  at  Toledo,  but  Blanche,  fearing  to 
trust  herself  to  his  power,  tried  to  slip  from  his  grasp  and 
finally  succeeded  in  doing  so.  Arrived  in  Toledo,  she  asked 
permission,  before  entering  the  palace,  to  go  to  the  cathe- 
dral, for  mass;  and  once  within  the  walls  of  the  sanctuary, 


310  WOMAN 

she  refused  to  go  back  to  her  guards,  demanded  the  right 
of  protection  which  the  churches  had  always  possessed  in 
the  Middle  Ages,  and,  finally,  told  her  story  with  such 
dramatic  effect,  that  the  clergy  crowded  about  her,  the 
nobles  unsheathed  their  swords  and  swore  to  uphold  her 
cause,  and  a  revolution  was  begun  which  soon  assumed 
great  proportions  and  so  frightened  Pedro  that  he  con- 
sented to  take  back  his  wife  and  send  away  the  baleful 
Maria.  For  four  years  his  nobles  kept  stern  watch  over  him, 
and  he  was  never  allowed  to  ride  out  of  his  palace  without 
a  guard  of  a  thousand  men  at  his  heels,  so  fearful  were 
they  that  he  might  break  away  from  them,  surround  him- 
self again  with  evil  counsellors,  and  recommence  his  career 
of  wantonness  and  crime.  Their  efforts  were  at  last  of  no 
avail,  as  he  eluded  his  followers  one  day  upon  a  hunting 
expedition,  through  the  kindly  intervention  of  a  heavy  fog, 
rode  off  to  Segovia,  ordered  his  mother,  who  had  been 
exercising  a  practical  regency  during  this  period,  to  send 
him  the  great  seal  of  state,  and  then  he  proceeded  to  wreak 
vengeance  upon  all  those  who  had  been  instrumental  in 
his  humiliation.  Blanche  was  sent  to  prison  at  Medina- 
Sidonia  on  a  trumped-up  charge,  was  shamefully  treated 
during  the  time  of  her  captivity,  and  died  in  1359,  in  the 
same  year  that  Maria  de  Padilla,  discredited  and  cast  aside, 
also  found  rest  in  death.  Pitiful  as  these  stories  are,  they 
serve  to  show  that  women,  even  at  this  time,  when  Spain 
was  the  seat  of  learning  and  refinement  for  all  Europe, 
were  but  the  servants  of  their  lords  and  masters,  and 
that  passion  still  ran  riot,  while  justice  sat  upon  a  totter- 
ing seat. 

In  Aragon,  near  the  close  of  this  fourteenth  century, 
similar  scenes  of  cruelty  were  enacted,  although  the  king, 
Juan  I.,  cannot  be  compared  for  cruelty  with  the  infamous 
Pedro.  Burke  has  said  that  if  Pedro  was  not  absolutely 


THIRTEENTH  AND  FOURTEENTH  CENTURIES         311 

the  most  cruel  of  men,  he  was  undoubtedly  the  greatest 
blackguard  who  ever  sat  upon  a  throne,  and  King  Juan 
was  far  from  meriting  similar  condemnation.  Sibyl  de 
Foix,  his  stepmother,  had  exercised  so  strange  and  won- 
derful a  power  over  his  father,  that  when  Juan  came  to 
the  throne  he  was  more  than  eager  to  turn  upon  this  en- 
chantress and  make  her  render  up  the  wide  estates  which 
the  late  king  had  been  prevailed  upon  to  leave  to  her.  It 
is  actually  asserted  that  Juan  charged  Sibyl  with  witch- 
craft and  insisted  that  she  had  bewitched  his  father  and 
that  she  had  all  sorts  of  mysterious  dealings  with  Satan 
and  his  evil  spirits.  Whatever  the  truth  may  have  been, 
the  unhappy  queen  only  escaped  torture  and  death  by 
surrendering  all  of  the  property  which  had  been  given 
her.  Juan  was  by  no  means  a  misogynist,  however,  for 
he  was  noted  for  his  gallantry,  and  his  beautiful  queen, 
Violante,  was  surrounded  by  a  bevy  of  court  beauties  who 
were  famed  throughout  all  Christendom  at  this  time. 
Juan's  capital  at  Saragossa  was  the  talk  of  all  Europe.  It 
became  famed  for  its  elegance,  was  a  veritable  school  of 
good  manners  and  courtly  grace,  and  to  it  flocked  poets 
and  countless  gentlemen  who  were  knightly  soldiers  of 
fortune,  only  too  willing  to  serve  a  noble  patron  who  knew 
how  to  appreciate  the  value  of  their  chivalry.  Violante 
was  the  acknowledged  leader  of  this  gay  and  brilliant 
world;  at  her  instigation  courts  of  love  are  said  to  have 
been  established,  and  in  every  way  did  she  try  to  repro- 
duce the  brilliant  social  life  which  had  been  the  wonder 
and  admiration  of  the  world  before  Simon  de  IWontfort  had 
blighted  the  fair  life  of  Provence.  More  than  ever  before 
in  Spain,  women  were  put  into  positions  of  prominence  in 
this  court;  and  so  great  was  the  poetic  and  literary  atmos- 
phere which  surrounded  them,  that  they  were  known  more 
than  once  to  try  their  hands  at  verse  making.  Their 


312  WOMAN 

attempts  were  modest,  however,  and  no  one  has  ever 
been  tempted  to  quote  against  them  Alphonse  Karr's  well- 
known  epigram:  "A  woman  who  writes,  commits  two  sins: 
she  increases  the  number  of  books,  and  she  decreases  the 
number  of  women;"  for  they  were  content,  for  the  most 
part,  to  be  the  source  of  inspiration  for  their  minstrel 
knights.  Violante's  gay  court  was  looked  upon  with  ques- 
tioning eye,  however,  by  the  majority  of  her  rude  subjects, 
and,  finally,  when  the  sum  demanded  from  the  Cortes  each 
year  for  the  maintenance  of  this  brilliant  establishment 
continued  to  increase  in  a  most  unreasonable  manner,  the 
Cortes  called  a  halt,  Violante  was  obliged  to  change  her 
mode  of  life,  and  the  number  of  her  ladies  in  waiting  was 
reduced  by  half,  while  other  unnecessary  expenses  were 
cut  in  proportion. 


Chapter 
Isabella 


XVII 

THE   AGE   OF  ISABELLA— SPANISH   UNITY 

IN  the  first  half  of  the  fifteenth  century  in  Spain  there 
was  one  woman,  Isabella  of  Portugal,  who  deserves  to  be 
remembered  for  her  many  good  qualities  and  for  the  fact  that 
she  was  the  mother  of  the  great  Queen  Isabella.  It  was  as 
the  wife  of  John  II.  of  Castile  that  the  elder  Isabella  was 
brought  into  the  political  life  of  the  time  and  made  to  play 
her  part.  This  King  John  was  one  of  the  weakest  and  in 
some  ways  the  most  inefficient  of  monarchs,  for,  in  spite 
of  his  intelligence,  his  good  manners,  and  his  open  and 
substantial  appreciation  of  the  learned  men  of  his  time,  his 
political  life  was  contemptible,  as  he  was  completely  under 
the  control  of  the  court  favorite,  Alvaro  de  Luna.  Alvaro 
de  Luna  era  el  hombre  mas  politico,  disimulado,  y  astuto  de 
su  tiempo  [Alvaro  de  Luna  was  the  most  politic,  deceitful, 
and  astute  man  of  his  time],  so  says  the  Spanish  historian 
Quintana;  and  as  Burke  puts  it,  he  had  the  strongest  head 
and  the  bravest  heart  in  all  Castile.  There  was  no  one  to 
excel  him  in  knightly  sport,  no  one  lived  in  greater  magnifi- 
cence, and  he  was,  in  truth,  "the  glass  of  fashion,  the  mould 
of  form,  the  observed  of  all  observers."  To  this  perfect 
knight,  the  king  was  a  mere  puppet  who  could  be  moved  this 
way  or  that  with  perfect  impunity.  So  complete  was  the 
ascendency  of  Luna,  that  it  is  said  on  good  authority  that  the 
king  hesitated  to  go  to  bed  until  he  had  received  his  favorite's 

315 


3l6  WOMAN 

permission.  When  King  John's  first  wife,  Maria  of  Portu- 
gal, died  in  1445,  it  was  his  desire  to  marry  a  princess  of 
the  royal  house  of  France;  but,  for  his  own  reasons,  the 
Lord  of  Luna  willed  otherwise,  and  the  king,  submissive, 
obeyed  orders  and  espoused  Isabella  of  Portugal,  a  grand- 
daughter of  King  John  I.  No  sooner  had  this  fiery  princess 
taken  her  place  beside  King  John,  after  their  marriage  in 
1450,  than  she  began  to  assert  her  independence  in  a  way 
which  caused  great  scandal  at  the  court  and  brought  dis- 
may to  the  heart  of  Alvaro  de  Luna.  Isabella  opposed 
the  plans  of  this  masterful  nobleman  at  every  turn,  refused 
to  accept  his  dictation  about  the  slightest  matter,  declined 
to  make  terms  with  him  in  any  way,  and  declared  herself 
entirely  beyond  his  control,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  he  had 
been  responsible  for  her  marriage.  King  John  was  at  first 
as  much  surprised  as  any  of  the  other  people  at  the  bold- 
ness of  his  young  queen,  but  he  soon  saw  that  it  would  be 
possible,  with  Isabella's  aid,  to  throw  off  the  hateful  yoke 
which  Luna  had  put  about  his  neck,  and  this  is  what  took 
place  in  a  very  short  time.  The  queen  was  more  than  a 
match  for  all  who  opposed  her,  court  intrigues,  instigated 
by  Luna,  were  to  no  avail,  and  in  the  end  he  had  to  give 
up,  beaten  by  a  woman,  and  one  whom  he  had  hoped  to 
make  his  agent,  or  ally,  in  the  further  subjection  of  the 
king.  A  year  after  the  marriage  of  John  and  Isabella, 
the  Princess  Isabella  was  born,  and  with  her  advent  there 
came  new  hope  for  Spain. 

In  the  neighboring  little  kingdom  of  Navarre  there  was 
another  princess  who  lived  at  about  the  same  time,  who 
distinguished  herself  not  by  the  same  boldness  of  manner 
perhaps,  but  by  a  quiet  dignity,  and  by  a  wise  and  tem- 
perate spirit  which  was  often  sorely  tried.  Blanche,  Prin- 
cess of  Navarre,  had  been  married  in  1419  to  the  Prince 
of  Aragon,  John;  but  in  the  early  years  of  their  married 


THE  AGE  OF  ISABELLA— SPANISH  UNITY  317 

life,  before  Navarre,  the  substantial  part  of  Blanche's  mar- 
riage portion,  came  under  her  definite  control,  the  young 
prince  spent  the  most  of  his  time  in  Castile,  where  he  was 
connected  with  many  of  the  court  intrigues  which  were 
being  woven  around  the  romantic  figure  of  Alvaro  de  Luna. 
Finally,  Blanche  became  Queen  of  Navarre,  upon  her 
father's  death  in  1425,  but  John  was  still  too  much  con- 
cerned with  his  Castilian  affairs  to  care  to  leave  them  and 
come  to  take  his  place  at  the  side  of  his  wife's  throne. 
For  three  years  Blanche  was  left  to  her  own  devices,  and 
during  that  time  she  ruled  her  little  state  without  the  aid 
or  assistance  of  king  or  prime  minister,  and  was  so  emi- 
nently successful  in  all  her  undertakings  that  her  capacity 
was  soon  a  matter  of  favorable  comment.  Finally,  in  1428, 
John  was  forced  to  leave  Castile,  as  Luna  had  gained  the 
upper  hand  for  the  moment,  and  he  considered  this  as  a 
favorable  opportunity  to  go  to  Navarre  and  gain  recogni- 
tion as  Queen  Blanche's  husband.  Accordingly,  he  went 
in  great  state  to  Pamplona,  the  capital  city,  and  there, 
with  imposing  ceremonies,  the  public  and  official  corona- 
tion of  John  and  Blanche  was  celebrated.  At  the  same 
time,  Blanche's  son  Charles  was  recognized  as  his  mother's 
successor  in  her  ancestral  kingdom.  But  Navarre  was  not 
a  congenial  territory  for  King  John,  who  was  of  a  restless, 
impulsive  disposition;  and  he  was  so  bored  by  the  provin- 
cial gayety  of  Pamplona  that  after  a  very  short  stay  he 
could  endure  it  no  longer,  and  set  off  for  Italy,  leaving 
Blanche  in  entire  control  as  before.  Navarre  was  a  sort 
of  halfway  ground  between  France  and  the  various  gov- 
ernments of  Spain,  and  was  often  the  centre  of  much 
intrigue  and  plotted  treachery;  but  John  was  so  completely 
overshadowed  now  by  Luna's  almost  absolute  power,  that 
he  knew  there  was  no  field  for  his  activity  at  home. 
Blanche,  however,  was  confronted  more  than  once  by  the 


318  WOMAN 

most  delicate  situations,  as  her  good  city  of  Pamplona  was 
constantly  filled  with  the  agents  of  foreign  powers;  but  so 
firm  was  the  queen's  character,  and  so  careful  were  her 
judgments,  that  she  was  able  to  administer  her  government 
until  her  death,  in  1441,  with  much  success  and  very  little 
criticism. 

The  next  woman  to  occupy  a  conspicuous  place  in  the 
annals  of  Aragon  and  Navarre  is  Dofia  Juana  Henriquez, 
the  second  wife  of  this  same  John  II.  Dofia  Juana  was  the 
daughter  of  Don  Fadrique  Henriquez,  Admiral  of  Castile, 
who  had  become  the  most  influential  man  in  the  kingdom 
•during  a  moment  of  temporary  disgrace  for  Alvaro  de  Luna; 
and  at  this  time  of  his  success,  for  factional  reasons,  John 
considered  that  an  alliance  with  the  admiral  might  further 
his  own  plans  with  respect  to  Castile.  This  second  wife 
was  not  a  woman  of  high  birth,  and  was  totally  unaccus- 
tomed to  the  new  surroundings  in  which  she  found  herself 
placed;  but  with  the  quick  adaptive  power  which  is  pos- 
sessed by  women  to  so  marked  a  degree,  Juana  was  soon 
able  to  hold  her  own  at  court  and  to  make  a  good  showing, 
in  fact,  on  any  occasion.  She  was  a  very  beautiful  woman, 
of  the  traditional  Spanish  type,  with  dark  eyes  and  dark 
hair,  and  a  very  engaging  manner,  and  to  her  clever- 
ness she  joined  a  great  ambition  which  made  her  unceasing 
in  her  efforts  for  her  husband's  advancement.  She  was 
inclined  to  be  haughty  and  domineering  in  tone,  was  not 
overscrupulous,  as  might  have  been  expected  of  one  who 
had  lived  in  the  atmosphere  of  the  Castilian  court  at  this 
time,  and  the  sum  total  of  her  efforts  did  little  more  than 
to  perpetuate  the  period  of  strife  and  turmoil.  The  ad- 
miral, Don  Fadrique,  was  in  control  for  but  a  short  time; 
and  upon  the  return  to  power  of  Alvaro,  John  was  driven 
out  of  the  country,  after  being  wounded  in  battle,  and  the 
admiral  himself  was  killed  in  the  fighting  at  Olmedo.  John 


THE  AGE  OF  ISABELLA— SPANISH  UNITY  319 

took  his  wife  with  him  to  Pamplona,  where  he  now  went, 
as  that  city  offered  him  a  most  convenient  exile.  His 
return  to  his  wife's  country  was  not  made  in  peace,  for 
no  sooner  had  he  arrived  than  he  proceeded  to  dispossess 
his  son  Charles,  who  had  been  openly  acknowledged  as 
his  mother's  heir  at  the  time  of  her  coronation.  In  the 
warfare  which  ensued,  and  which  was  a  snarl  of  petty, 
selfish  interests,  Juana  did  yeoman  service  in  her  hus- 
band's cause.  At  the  time  of  her  hurried  flight  to  Navarre, 
she  had  tarried  for  a  short  time  in  the  little  town  of  Sos,  in 
Aragon,  and  there  she  had  given  birth  to  a  son,  Fernando, 
who  was  to  be  instrumental  in  bringing  peace  and  glory  to 
Spain  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  he  first  saw  the  light  in  the 
midst  of  such  tumult  and  confusion.  Notwithstanding  her 
delicate  condition,  Juana  was  soon  in  the  thick  of  the  fray, 
as  she  hastened  to  the  town  of  Estella,  which  had  been 
threatened,  fortified  the  place,  and  defended  it  effectually 
from  all  the  attacks  made  upon  it  by  the  hostile  forces. 
She  seems  to  have  been  a  born  fighter,  and,  though  her 
efforts  may  often  have  been  misdirected,  she  must  have 
exerted  a  powerful  influence  upon  the  mind  of  her  son, 
who  was  to  show  himself  at  a  later  day  as  good  a  fighter 
in  a  larger  cause. 

To  turn  back  to  Castile  now  for  a  time,  in  the  labyrinth 
of  this  much  involved  period,  where  the  duplication  of 
names  and  the  multiplicity  of  places  makes  it  difficult  to 
thread  one's  way  intelligently,  it  will  be  found  that  the 
court,  during  the  reign  of  Henry  IV.,  was  chiefly  distin- 
guished by  its  scandalous  immorality.  Quintana,  in  his 
volume  entitled  the  Grande^as  de  Madrid,  gives  enough 
information  on  the  subject  to  reveal  the  fact  that  the  roues 
of  that  period  could  learn  little  from  their  counterparts 
to-day,  as  the  most  shameless  proceedings  were  of  every- 
day occurrence,  and  men  and  women  both  seemed  to  vie 


320  WOMAN 

with  each  other  in  their  wickedness.  It  would  be  some- 
what unjust  to  include  the  great  body  of  the  people  in  this 
vicious  class,  as  the  most  conspicuous  examples  of  human 
degradation  and  degeneracy  were  to  be  found  at  the  court, 
but  the  fact  remains  that  public  ideas  in  regard  to  moral 
questions  were  very  lax;  the  clergy  was  corrupt,  and  the 
moral  tone  of  the  whole  country  was  deplorably  low,  as 
judged  by  the  standards  of  to-day.  Women  deceived  their 
husbands  with  much  the  same  relish  as  Boccaccio  depicts 
in  his  Decameron;  passions  were  everywhere  the  moving 
forces,  in  the  higher  and  lower  classes  as  well,  and 
nowhere  was  there  to  be  seen  the  continence  which  comes 
from  an  intelligent  self-control. 

In  the  midst  of  this  carnival  of  vice  and  corruption, 
King  Henry,  the  older  brother  of  the  Princess  Isabella, 
was  a  most  striking  figure.  He  had  been  divorced  from 
his  first  wife,  Blanche  of  Aragon,  on  the  ground  of  impo- 
tence, but  had  succeeded,  in  spite  of  this  humiliation,  in 
contracting  another  alliance,  this  time  with  the  beautiful, 
but  not  overscrupulous,  Juana  of  Portugal.  Beltran  de 
Cueva,  a  brilliant  nobleman,  was  the  favorite  and  influen- 
tial person  at  the  court  at  this  time,  and  his  gradual  rise 
to  favor  had  been  due  in  no  small  measure  to  the  protec- 
tion of  the  new  queen,  who  was  Beltran's  all  but  acknowl- 
edged mistress  and  took  no  pains  to  conceal  the  matter  at 
any  time.  In  fact,  at  a  great  tournament  held  near  Madrid 
in  1461,  soon  after  Juana's  arrival  at  the  court,  Beltran 
posed  as  her  preferred  champion,  and  held  the  lists  against 
all  comers  in  defence  of  his  mistress's  preeminent  and 
matchless  beauty.  The  king  was  far  from  displeased  at 
this  liaison  between  Beltran  and  the  queen,  and  he  was  so 
delighted  at  the  knight's  unvarying  success  in  this  tourna- 
ment, that  the  story  goes  that  he  founded  a  monastery 
upon  the  spot  and  named  it,  in  honor  of  Saint  Jerome  and 


THE  AGE  OF  ISABELLA— SPANISH  UNITY  321 

Beltran,  San  Geronimo  del  Paso,  or  of  the  "  passage  of 
arms"  !  The  king  was  little  moved  by  all  this,  for  the 
simple  reason  that  he  was  paying  a  most  ardent  court  at 
the  same  time  to  one  of  the  queen's  ladies  in  waiting. 
This  Lady  Guiomar,  his  mistress,  was  beautiful,  but  bold 
and  vicious,  as  her  relations  with  such  a  king  demonstrate, 
but  for  a  time  at  least  she  was  riding  upon  the  crest  of  the 
wave.  Proud  in  her  questionable  honor,  and  daring  to  be 
jealous  of  the  real  queen,  she  made  King  Henry  pay 
dearly  for  her  favors,  and  she  was  soon  installed  in  a 
palace  of  her  own  and  living  in  a  splendor  and  magnifi- 
cence which  rivalled  that  of  the  queen  herself.  The  Arch- 
bishop of  Seville,  strange  to  relate,  openly  espoused  her 
cause.  Her  insolent  and  domineering  ways  were  a  fit 
counterpart  to  those  of  the  queen,  and  the  unfortunate 
people  were  soon  making  open  complaint.  Beltran,  the 
king  in  fact,  was  the  open  and  accepted  favorite  of  the 
queen,  and  Henry,  the  king  in  name  only,  was  devoting 
himself  to  a  vain  and  shallow  court  beauty  who  wished  to 
be  a  veritable  queen  and  longed  for  the  overthrow  of  her 
rival!  Such  was  the  sad  spectacle  presented  to  the  world 
by  Castile  at  this  time,  but  the  crisis  was  soon  to  come 
which  would  clarify  the  air  and  lead  to  a  more  satisfactory 
condition  in  the  state.  Matters  were  hastened  to  their 
climax  when  the  queen  gave  birth,  in  1462,  to  a  daughter 
who  was  called  after  her  mother,  Juana;  but  so  evident 
was  the  paternity  of  this  pitiful  little  princess,  that  she 
was  at  once  christened  La  Beltraneja  in  common  parlance; 
and  by  that  sobriquet  she  is  best  known  in  history.  It  is 
doubtful  if  the  sluggish  moral  natures  of  this  time  would 
have  been  moved  by  this  fact,  if  the  king  had  not  insisted 
that  this  baby  girl  should  be  acknowledged  as  his  daughter 
and  heiress  to  the  crown  of  Castile.  This  was  too  much 
for  the  leaders  of  the  opposition,  and  they  demanded  that 


322  WOMAN 

Henry's  younger  brother,  Alfonso,  be  recognized  as  his 
successor.  This  proposition  brought  about  civil  warfare, 
which  was  ended  by  Alfonso's  death  in  1468,  and  then 
Isabella  was  generally  recognized  as  the  real  successor  to 
her  unworthy  brother  Henry,  in  spite  of  the  claims  he 
continued  to  put  forth  in  favor  of  La  Beltraneja. 

Before  the  cessation  of  domestic  hostilities,  Isabella  had 
been  sorely  tried  by  various  projects  which  had  been  ad- 
vanced for  her  marriage.  She  had  been  brought  up  by 
her  mother,  Queen  Isabella,  in  the  little  town  of  Arevalo, 
which  had  been  settled  upon  her  at  the  time  of  the  death 
of  her  husband,  King  John  II.  There,  in  quiet  and  seclu- 
sion, quite  apart  from  the  vice  and  tumult  of  the  capital, 
the  little  princess  had  been  under  the  close  tutelage  of  the 
Church,  as  her  mother  had  grown  quite  devout  with 
advancing  years;  and  as  Isabella  ripened  into  womanhood, 
it  became  evident  that  she  possessed  a  high  serious- 
ness and  a  strength  of  character  quite  unusual.  Still,  all 
was  uncertain  as  to  her  fate.  Her  brother  Henry  had 
first  endeavored  to  marry  her  to  Alfonso  V.  of  Portugal, 
the  elder  and  infamous  brother  of  his  own  shameless  queen, 
but  Isabella  had  declined  this  alliance  on  the  ground  that  it 
had  not  been  properly  ratified  by  the  Cortes  of  Castile, 
and  as  a  result  the  plan  was  soon  dropped.  In  the  midst 
of  the  rebellion  which  had  broken  out  after  Henry's 
attempt  to  foist  La  Beltraneja  upon  the  state,  he  had  pro- 
posed as  a  conciliatory  measure  that  one  of  the  most  tur- 
bulent of  the  factional  leaders,  Don  Pedro  Giron,  Grand 
Master  of  Calatrava,  should  wed  Isabella,  and  the  offer 
had  been  accepted.  This  man,  who  was  old  enough  to  be 
her  father,  was  stained  with  vice,  in  spite  of  his  exalted 
position  in  the  religious  Order  of  Calatrava,  and  his  char- 
acter was  so  notoriously  vile  that  the  mere  mention  of  such 
an  alliance  was  nothing  short  of  insult  to  Isabella.  Again 


THE  AGE  OF  ISABELLA— SPANISH  UNITY  323 

she  did  not  allow  herself  to  be  dominated  by  her  brother, 
and  after  announcing  that  she  utterly  refused  to  consent 
to  such  an  arrangement,  she  shut  herself  up  in  her  apart- 
ments and  declared  her  intention  of  resisting  any  attempts 
which  might  be  made  to  coerce  her.  But  the  king  gave  no 
heed  to  her  remonstrances,  and  made  arrangements  for 
the  wedding  festivities,  the  bridegroom  having  been  sum- 
moned. The  pope  had  absolved  the  profligate  grand  master 
from  his  vows  of  celibacy,  which  he  had  never  kept,  and 
poor  Isabella,  sustained  only  by  the  moral  support  of  her 
courageous  mother,  was  beginning  to  quake  and  tremble, 
as  she  knew  not  what  might  happen,  and  the  prospect  for 
her  future  happiness  was  far  from  good.  A  providential 
illness  overcame  the  dreaded  bridegroom  when  he  was 
less  than  forty  leagues  from  Madrid,  as  it  turned  out,  and 
Isabella  was  able  to  breathe  again  freely. 

With  the  death  of  the  younger  Alfonso,  there  were 
many  who  urged  Isabella  to  declare  herself  at  once  as  the 
Queen  of  Castile  and  to  head  a  revolution  against  her 
brother,  the  unworthy  Henry.  Her  natural  inclinations, 
as  well  as  the  whole  character  of  her  early  education,  had 
made  her  devout,  almost  bigoted,  by  nature,  and  it  was 
but  natural  that  her  advisers  at  this  time  in  her  career 
were  mostly  members  of  the  clergy,  who  saw  in  this 
young  queen-to-be  a  great  support  for  the  Spanish  Church 
in  the  future.  But  this  girl  of  sixteen  was  wiser  than  her 
advisers,  for  she  refused  to  head  a  revolution,  and  con- 
tented herself  with  a  claim  to  the  throne  upon  her  brother's 
death.  Such  a  claim  necessarily  had  to  run  counter  to  the 
claim  of  the  dubious  Princess  Juana,  and  to  discredit  her 
cause  as  much  as  possible  her  sobriquet  La  Beltraneja 
was  zealously  revived.  Sure  of  the  support  of  the  clergy, 
and  still  wishing  to  be  near  to  her  advisers,  Isabella  went 
to  the  monastery  at  Avila,  where,  it  is  said,  deputations 


324  WOMAN 

from  all  parts  of  Castile  came  to  entreat  her  to  assume 
the  crown  at  once.  Her  policy  of  delay  made  possible 
an  interview  between  sister  and  brother,  at  which  Henry, 
unable  to  withstand  the  manifest  current  of  public  senti- 
ment, agreed  to  accept  Isabella  as  his  successor  and  as 
the  lawful  heir  to  the  throne  of  Castile.  With  this 
question  settled  in  this  satisfactory  way,  the  matter  of 
Isabella's  marriage  again  became  an  affair  of  national  im- 
portance. There  were  suitors  in  plenty,  Richard,  Duke  of 
Gloucester,  brother  of  Edward  IV.  of  England,  and  the 
Duke  of  Guienne,  brother  of  Louis  XI.  and  heir  to  the 
French  throne,  being  among  the  number;  but  the  young 
Isabella,  influenced  as  much  by  policy  as  by  any  personal 
feeling  in  the  matter,  had  decided  that  she  would  wed 
Fernando,  son  of  John  II.  of  Aragon  and  his  second  wife, 
the  dashing  Dofia  Juana  Henriquez,  and  nothing  would 
change  her  from  this  fixed  purpose.  In  a  former  day  it 
had  been  a  woman,  Queen  Berenguela,  who  had  labored 
long  and  successfully  for  the  union  of  Castile  and  Leon; 
and  now  another  woman,  this  time  a  girl  still  in  her  teens, 
was  laboring  for  a  still  greater  Spanish  unity,  which  will 
consolidate  the  interests  of  the  two  kingdoms  of  Aragon 
and  Castile  and  give  to  all  Spain  the  peace  which  was  now 
such  a  necessity  to  the  future  well-being  of  the  country. 
There  were  numerous  obstacles  thrown  in  the  way  of  this 
marriage,  which  was  not  pleasing  to  all  of  the  Castilian 
factions.  The  Archbishop  of  Seville  tried  to  kidnap  Isabella 
to  prevent  it,  and  would  have  done  so  but  for  the  activity 
of  another  prelate,  the  Archbishop  of  Toledo,  who  rescued 
the  unfortunate  maiden  and  carried  her  off  to  sure  friends 
in  Valladolid,  where  she  awaited  Fernando's  coming. 

Burke  gives  an  admirable  description  of  Isabella  at  this 
time,  in  the  following  lines:  "  That  royal  and  noble  lady 
was  then  in  the  full  bloom  of  her  maiden  beauty.  She  had 


THE  AGE  OF  ISABELLA— SPANISH  UNITY  325 

just  completed  her  eighteenth  year.  In  stature  somewhat 
superior  to  the  majority  of  her  countrywomen,  and  inferior 
to  none  in  personal  grace  and  charm,  her  golden  hair  and 
her  bright  blue  eyes  told  perhaps  of  her  Lancastrian  an- 
cestry. Her  beauty  was  remarkable  in  a  land  where 
beauty  has  never  been  rare;  her  dignity  was  conspicuous 
in  a  country  where  dignity  is  the  heritage  not  of  a  class 
but  of  a  nation.  Of  her  courage,  no  less  than  of  her  dis- 
cretion, she  had  already  given  abundant  proofs.  Bold  and 
resolute,  modest  and  reserved,  she  had  all  the  simplicity 
of  a  great  lady  born  for  a  great  position.  She  became  in 
after  life  something  of  an  autocrat  and  overmuch  of  a  bigot. 
But  it  could  not  be  laid  to  the  charge  of  a  persecuted  prin- 
cess of  nineteen  that  she  was  devoted  to  the  service  of  her 
religion."  Such  was  Isabella  when  she  married  Fernando; 
and  the  wedding  was  quietly  celebrated  at  Valladolid,  in 
the  house  of  a  friend,  Don  Juan  de  Vivero,  while  the  warlike 
Archbishop  of  Toledo  had  charge  of  the  ceremony.  Never 
was  there  a  simpler  royal  wedding  in  all  the  annals  of 
Spanish  history:  there  was  no  throng  of  gay  nobles,  there 
were  none  of  the  customary  feasts  or  tournaments,  there 
was  no  military  display,  no  glitter  of  jewels,  no  shimmer 
of  silks  and  satins,  but  all  was  quiet  and  serious,  and 
the  few  guests  at  this  solemn  consecration  seemed  im- 
pressed with  the  dignity  of  the  occasion.  The  pathway 
of  the  young  princess  was  not  all  strewn  with  roses,  how- 
ever, as  her  marriage  seemed  to  enrage  her  degenerate 
brother  and  to  stimulate  him  to  new  deeds  of  unworthi- 
ness.  In  spite  of  the  fact  that  King  Henry's  shameless 
conduct  in  private  life  had  been  given  a  severe  rebuke,  by 
implication  at  least,  at  the  time  that  Isabella  was  being 
urged  on  all  sides  to  declare  herself  as  queen  and  dispos- 
sess her  brother,  this  perverted  monarch  continued  his 
profligate  career  in  most  open  fashion.  He  had  not  only 


326  WOMAN 

one  mistress  but  many  of  them  at  the  court,  he  loaded 
them  with  riches  and  with  favors,  and  often,  in  a  some- 
what questionable  excess  of  religious  zeal,  he  appointed 
them  to  posts  of  honor  and  importance  in  conventual 
establishments!  No  sooner  had  Isabella's  wedding  been 
celebrated  than  Henry  began  to  stir  up  trouble  again, 
declared  that  the  queen's  daughter,  La  Beltraneja,  was 
the  only  lawful  heir  to  his  estates,  and  to  further  his 
projects  he  succeeded  in  arranging  for  a  betrothal  cere- 
mony between  this  young  woman  and  the  young  Duke  of 
Guienne,  heir  presumptive  to  the  crown  of  France,  who 
had  been  one  of  Isabella's  suitors,  as  will  be  remembered. 
This  French  alliance,  threatening  for  a  moment,  was  soon 
impaired  by  the  unexpected  death  of  the  young  duke,  and 
Isabella's  position  was  strengthened  daily  by  the  growing 
disbelief  in  La  Beltraneja's  legitimacy.  To  give  in  detail 
an  account  of  all  the  plots  which  were  concocted  against 
Isabella  would  take  many  chapters  in  itself,  for  she  met 
with  bitter  opposition  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  she  seems 
to  have  won  the  sympathies  of  the  larger  part  of  the 
population  of  the  two  countries. 

In  the  midst  of  this  continual  intrigue  came  the  news  of 
King  Henry's  death  in  1474,  and  then  Isabella,  who  had 
been  biding  her  time,  was  proclaimed  queen  by  her  own 
orders,  and  the  proclamation  was  made  at  Segovia,  which 
was  then  her  place  of  residence.  As  a  mere  matter  of 
curiosity,  it  may  be  interesting  to  record  the  long  list 
of  titles  which  actually  belonged  to  Isabella  at  this  time. 
She  was  Queen  of  Castile,  Aragon,  Leon,  Sicily,  Granada, 
Toledo,  Valencia,  Galicia,  the  Mallorcas,  Seville,  Sardinia, 
Cordova,  Corsica,  Murcia,  Jaen,  the  Algarves,  Alguynias, 
Gibraltar,  the  Canary  Islands,  Countess  of  Barcelona, 
Sovereign  Lady  of  Biscay  and  Molina,  Duchess  of 
Athens  and  Neopatria,  Countess  of  Roussillon,  Cerdagne, 


THE  AGE  OF  ISABELLA— SPANISH  UNITY  327 

Marchioness  of  Ovistan  and  Goziano!  After  assuming 
the  heavy  burden  implied  by  this  somewhat  overpowering 
list  of  titles,  the  young  queen's  first  serious  annoyance 
came  from  her  husband,  strange  as  the  case  may  seem. 
Fernando  of  Aragon  was  the  nearest  living  male  repre- 
sentative of  King  Henry,  and  he  somewhat  selfishly  began 
to  take  steps  to  supplant  Isabella  in  her  succession.  Little 
did  he  know  his  wife,  however,  if  he  imagined  it  possible 
to  deprive  her  of  Castile,  and  events  soon  showed  that 
she  was  the  stronger  of  the  two.  At  her  orders,  the  laws 
and  precedents  with  regard  to  royal  succession  were  care- 
fully examined,  and  it  was  soon  published  abroad  that 
there  was  no  legal  objection  to  her  assumption  of  power. 
Fernando  was  appeased  to  some  degree  by  certain  conces- 
sions made  by  his  wife,  their  daughter  Juana  was  rec- 
ognized as  heiress  of  Castile,  and,  all  in  all,  in  spite  of  his 
disgruntled  state  of  mind,  he  wisely  concluded  to  remain 
at  Isabella's  side  and  help  to  fight  her  battles.  A  new 
cause  for  alarm  soon  appeared:  another  of  Isabella's  former 
suitors,  Alfonso,  King  of  Portugal,  was  affianced  to  the 
pitiful  La  Beltraneja,  the  two  were  proclaimed  King  and 
Queen  of  Castile,  and  the  country  was  at  once  invaded 
by  a  hostile  force.  Isabella  interested  herself  personally 
in  the  equipment  of  her  troops,  she  faced  every  emergency 
bravely,  and  after  a  short  campaign  her  banners  were  tri- 
umphant and  all  things  seemed  to  indicate  that  an  era  of 
peace  had  been  begun.  The  pope  dissolved  the  marriage 
between  Alfonso  and  La  Beltraneja  soon  after,  and  these 
two  unhappy  mortals  forthwith  retired  from  the  world, 
she  to  the  convent  of  Saint  Clare  at  Coimbra,  while  the 
poor  king  resigned  his  crown  and  became  a  Franciscan 
monk.  So  great,  in  fact,  was  Isabella's  victory  at  this 
time,  and  so  keen  was  her  appreciation  of  the  fact  that 
her  greatest  cause  for  alarm  had  been  completely  removed 


328  WOMAN 

from  the  scene  of  action,  that  she  walked  barefooted  in 
a  procession  to  the  church  of  Saint  Paul  at  Tordesillas, 
to  express  her  feeling  of  thanksgiving  for  her  great 
success. 

Following  close  upon  the  heels  of  this  last  stroke  of  good 
fortune  for  Castile  came  the  news  that  the  old  King  of 
Aragon,  Fernando's  father,  was  dead,  and  now,  in  truth, 
came  that  unity  of  Spain  which  had  been  the  dream  of 
more  than  one  Utopian  mind  in  days  gone  by.  With 
fortune  smiling  upon  them  in  so  many  ways,  the  sover- 
eigns of  this  united  realm  were  still  confronted  by  many 
serious  problems  of  government,  especially  in  Castile, 
which  called  for  speedy  settlement.  The  long  years  of 
weak  and  vicious  administration  had  filled  the  country 
with  all  kinds  of  abuses,  and  the  task  of  internal  im- 
provement was  difficult  enough  to  cause  even  a  stouter 
heart  to  quail.  The  queen  in  all  these  matters  displayed 
a  rare  sagacity  and  developed  a  rare  faculty  for  handling 
men  which  stood  her  in  good  stead.  The  recalcitrant 
nobles  and  the  rebellious  commoners  were  all  brought 
to  terms  by  her  influence,  and  her  power  was  soon 
unquestioned.  She  had  an  army  at  her  back  and  a 
crowd  of  officers  ready  to  carry  out  and  enforce  her  in- 
structions to  the  letter,  but,  more  than  all  this,  her  great 
and  personal  triumph  was  the  result  of  her  tremendous 
personal  power  and  magnetism.  She  travelled  all  over 
Spain  in  a  most  tireless  fashion,  she  met  the  people  in  a 
familiar  manner,  and  showed  her  sympathy  for  them  in 
countless  ways;  but  there  was  always  about  her  some- 
thing of  that  divinity  which  doth  hedge  a  king,  which 
made  all  both  fear  and  respect  her.  No  nook  or  corner  of 
the  whole  country  was  too  remote,  her  visits  covered  the 
whole  realm,  and  everywhere  it  was  plain  to  see  that  her 
coming  had  been  followed  by  the  most  satisfactory  results. 


THE  AGE  OF  ISABELLA— SPANISH   UNITY  329 

Having  thus  created  a  great  and  mighty  public  sentiment 
in  her  favor,  Isabella  was  not  slow  to  attack  the  great 
questions  of  national  reforms,  which  were  sadly  in  need 
of  her  attention.  She  boldly  curtailed  the  privileges  of 
the  grandees  of  Spain,  and  to  such  good  effect  that  she 
transformed,  in  an  incredibly  short  space  of  time,  the  most 
turbulent  aristocracy  on  the  continent  into  a  body  of  de- 
voted and  submissive  retainers,  the  counterpart  of  which 
was  not  to  be  found  in  any  other  country  of  Europe.  Her 
wide  grasp  of  affairs  is  seen  in  the  support  she  was  willing 
to  give  to  Columbus  in  his  voyage  overseas,  and  time  and 
time  again  she  showed  herself  equal  to  the  most  trying 
situations  in  a  way  which  was  most  surprising  in  one  of 
her  age  and  experience.  Her  firmness  of  character  was 
ever  felt,  although  her  manners  were  always  mild  and  her 
whole  attitude  was  calculated  to  conciliate  rather  than  to 
antagonize. 

Pure  and  discreet  in  every  way,  Isabella  was  ever  a 
zealous  Christian,  and  she  never  failed  to  aid  the  Church 
when  the  means  were  within  her  reach.  The  gradual 
decline  of  the  Moorish  power  in  Spain  had  given  rise  to  a 
most  unfortunate  spirit  of  religious  intolerance,  with  which 
Isabella  was  soon  called  upon  to  deal,  and  her  action  in 
this  matter  is  but  characteristic  of  the  time  in  which  she 
lived.  Spain  was  filled  with  Jews,  who  had  settled  un- 
molested under  the  Moslem  rule,  and  there  were  also 
many  Moriscoes,  or  people  of  mixed  Spanish  and  Moorish 
origin;  and  these  unfortunates  were  now  to  be  submitted 
to  the  tortures  of  that  diabolical  institution  known  as  the 
Inquisition,  because  they  were  not  enthusiastic  in  their 
support  of  the  Catholic  religion.  Isabella  tried  to  oppose 
the  introduction  of  these  barbarous  practices  into  Castile, 
but  by  specious  argument  her  scruples  were  overcome 
and  she  was  made  to  bow  to  the  will  of  the  pope  and  his 


330  WOMAN 

legates.  In  the  workings  of  the  Inquisition  little  distinc- 
tion was  made  between  men  and  women,  and  both  seem 
to  have  suffered  alike  at  the  hands  of  these  cruel  ministers 
of  the  Church.  In  1498,  for  the  first  time,  it  was  decreed 
that  men  and  women  held  under  arrest  by  order  of  the 
inquisitor  should  be  provided  with  separate  prisons,  and  it 
is  easy  to  imagine  from  this  one  statement  that  Isabella 
must  have  been  very  much  of  a  bigot,  or  she  could  not 
have  allowed  so  flagrant  an  abuse  to  exist  for  any  length 
of  time,  no  matter  what  the  occasion  for  it.  When  the 
power  of  the  inquisitor  seemed  about  to  extend  to  the  Jews 
for  the  first  time,  they  offered  to  Fernando  and  Isabella 
thirty  thousand  pieces  of  silver,  for  the  final  campaigns 
against  the  Moors,  if  they  might  be  allowed  to  live  un- 
molested. The  proposition  was  being  favorably  enter- 
tained, when  Torquemada,  the  chief  inquisitor,  suddenly 
appeared  before  the  king  and  queen,  with  a  crucifix  in  his 
uplifted  hand;  and  if  the  traditional  account  be  true,  he 
addressed  them  in  these  words:  "Judas  sold  his  Master 
for  thirty  pieces  of  silver,  your  highnesses  are  about  to  do 
the  same  for  thirty  thousand;  behold  Him,  take  Him,  and 
hasten  to  sell  Him."  Impressed  by  this  dramatic  presenta- 
tion of  the  subject,  Isabella  was  impelled  to  sign  the  de- 
crees which  banished  the  Jews  from  Spain  and  led  to  so 
much  slaughter  and  persecution.  All  of  this  side  of  Isa- 
bella's character  causes  some  expression  of  surprise  per- 
haps, but  it  must  be  remembered  that  her  religious  zeal 
and  enthusiasm  were  such  that  anyone  who  dared  to  oppose 
the  power  of  Rome  in  any  way  could  have  no  claim  upon 
her  of  any  kind. 

This  same  trait  of  character  is  everywhere  prominent 
in  Isabella's  treatment  of  the  Moors.  In  the  year  1487 
the  important  Moorish  city  of  Malaga  was  compelled  finally 
to  surrender  to  the  armies  of  Fernando  and  Isabella  after 


THE  AGE  OF  ISABELLA— SPANISH   UNITY  331 

a  most  heroic  defence,  but  these  Christian  rulers  could  feel 
no  pity  for  their  unfortunate  captives,  and  were  unwilling 
to  show  any  sense  of  appreciation  of  their  valor.  Accord- 
ingly, the  whole  population  of  some  fifteen  thousand  people 
was  sold  into  slavery  and  scattered  throughout  Europe! 
Prescott,  in  his  history  of  the  time  of  Fernando  and  Isa- 
bella, states  that  the  clergy  in  the  Spanish  camp  wanted 
to  have  the  whole  population  put  to  the  sword,  but  to  this 
Isabella  would  not  consent.  Burke  gives  the  following 
details  with  regard  to  the  fate  of  all  these  prisoners  of  war: 
"A  hundred  choice  warriors  were  sent  as  a  gift  to  the 
pope.  Fifty  of  the  most  beautiful  girls  were  presented  to 
the  Queen  of  Naples,  thirty  more  to  the  Queen  of  Portu- 
gal, others  to  the  ladies  of  her  court,  and  the  residue  of 
both  sexes  were  portioned  off  among  the  nobles,  the 
knights,  and  the  common  soldiers  of  the  army,  according 
to  their  rank  and  influence."  If  Isabella  showed  herself 
tender-hearted  in  not  allowing  a  regular  massacre  of  these 
poor  Moors,  she  was  far  less  compassionate  with  regard  to 
the  Jews  and  the  renegade  Christians  who  were  within 
the  walls  of  Malaga  when  the  city  was  taken.  These 
poor  unfortunates  were  burned  at  the  stake,  and  Albarca, 
a  contemporary  Church  historian,  in  describing  the  scene, 
says  that  these  awful  fires  were  "  illuminations  most  grate- 
ful to  the  Catholic  piety  of  Fernando  and  Isabella." 

Isabella  shows  this  same  general  mental  temper  in  her 
whole  attitude  to  war  and  warlike  deeds,  for  she  seems  to 
have  possessed  little  of  that  real  sentiment  or  pity  which 
women  are  supposed  to  show.  Tolstoi  has  said  that  the 
first  and  chief  thing  that  should  be  looked  for  in  a  woman 
is  fear,  but  this  remark  cannot  be  applied  in  any  way  to 
Isabella,  for  no  fear  was  ever  found  in  her.  In  the  camp 
at  Granada,  in  those  last  days  of  struggle,  the  queen  ap- 
peared on  the  field  daily,  superbly  mounted,  and  dressed 


332  WOMAN 

in  complete  armor;  and  she  gave  much  time  to  the  inspec- 
tion of  the  quarters  of  the  soldiers  and  reviewed  the  troops 
at  her  pleasure.  One  day  she  said,  in  talking  to  some  of 
her  officers,  that  she  would  like  to  go  nearer  to  the  city 
walls  for  a  closer  inspection  of  the  place,  whereupon  a 
small  escort  of  chosen  men  was  immediately  detailed  to 
take  the  queen  to  a  better  point  for  observing  the  city 
and  its  means  of  defence.  They  all  advanced  boldly,  the 
queen  in  the  front  rank,  and  so  angered  the  Moors  by 
their  insolence,  so  small  was  their  party,  that  the  gates  of 
the  city  suddenly  opened  and  a  large  body  of  citizens  came 
forth  to  punish  them  for  their  temerity.  In  spite  of  the 
unequal  numbers,  the  Christian  knights,  inspired  by  the 
presence  and  the  coolness  of  their  queen,  who  was  appar- 
ently unmoved  by  the  whole  scene,  performed  such  mira- 
cles of  valor  that  two  thousand  Moors  were  slain  in  a  short 
time  and  their  fellows  compelled  to  retire  in  confusion. 

With  the  conquest  of  the  Moors,  the  spreading  of  the 
influence  of  Spain  beyond  the  seas  became  a  more  imme- 
diate question.  Its  solution,  however,  was  still  prevented 
by  the  theories  of  statesmen  and  theologians.  Columbus 
had  won  the  queen  to  his  cause  during  the  famous  audience 
at  the  summer  court  at  Salamanca,  when  he  was  presented 
to  the  sovereigns  by  Cardinal  de  Mendoza,  at  which  inter- 
view, we  are  told,  he  "  had  no  eyes  for  any  potentate  but 
Isabella."  But  after  years  of  disappointment  to  Colum- 
bus, the  queen  was  again  the  great  power  to  further  his 
project:  she  offered  to  pledge  her  crown  jewels  to  defray 
the  cost  of  the  expedition.  Thus  a  speedy  issue  was  ob- 
tained, and  to  Isabella's  determination  Spain  owes  a  glory 
which  gilds  the  reign  of  this  queen  with  imperishable 
lustre. 


SSEomen  of  tf)e  &txteeutf)  fflenturg 


XVIII 
THE  WOMEN  OF  THE   SIXTEENTH  CENTURY 

THE  wealth  which  had  come  to  Spain  as  the  result  of 
her  conquests  in  Moorish  territory,  and,  far  more,  the 
treasure  which  was  beginning  to  pour  into  the  country 
from  the  new  Spanish  possessions  beyond  the  seas, 
brought  to  the  old  peninsula  a  possibility  for  lavish  and 
brilliant  display  in  dress  which  was  by  no  means  disre- 
garded. All  Europe,  in  this  same  period  of  the  Renaissance, 
had  been  undergoing  to  a  greater  or  less  degree  this  social 
transformation,  but  the  looms  of  Valencia  and  Granada 
furnished  the  silks  and  brocades  which  other  countries 
bought  with  eagerness,  and  Spain  may  be  considered  very 
properly  as  the  home  of  all  this  courtly  show.  The  won- 
derful gold  cloths  which  were  woven  by  the  deft  fingers 
of  the  Moriscoes  were  everywhere  prized  by  fine  ladies 
and  ardent  churchmen,  for  there  was  no  finer  material  for 
a  fetching  robe  of  state  in  all  the  world,  and  no  altar  cloth 
or  priestly  robe  could  possess  excelling  beauty  and  not 
owe  a  debt  to  Spain.  Someone  has  said  that  women 
are  compounds  of  plain-sewing  and  make-believe,  daugh- 
ters of  Sham  and  Hem,  and,  without  questioning  the  truth 
of  the  statement,  the  same  remark  might  be  applied  to 
both  the  clergy  and  the  women  of  this  period  at  least,  if 
"fine-sewing"  be  substituted  for  "plain-sewing"  in  the 
epigram.  Isabella  herself,  in  spite  of  her  well-known 
serious  character,  dressed  in  a  way  which  was  magnificent 

335 


336  WOMAN 

beyond  belief,  and  the  smallest  provincial  court  was  a 
marvel  of  brave  array.  Never  had  the  women  adorned 
themselves  so  splendidly  before,  the  fashions  were  made 
and  followed  with  much  scrupulous  precision,  and  so  great 
was  the  sum  of  money  expended  by  people  of  all  classes, 
high  and  low,  that  the  far-seeing  and  prudent  began  to 
fear  the  consequences.  It  is  said  that  on  more  than  one 
occasion  the  Cortes  deplored  the  prevalent  extravagance 
and  the  foolish  pride  which  made  even  the  laboring  classes 
vie  in  richness  of  dress  with  the  nobility,  "whereby  they 
not  only  squander  their  own  estate,  but  bring  poverty  and 
want  to  all."  When,  however,  Fernando  and  Isabella 
discovered  that  gold  was  being  used  in  large  amounts  in 
the  weaving  of  these  costly  tissues,  they  issued  an  order 
which  not  only  prohibited  the  wearing  of  this  finery,  but 
inflicted  heavy  penalties  upon  all  those  who  should  import, 
sell,  or  manufacture  any  textures  containing  gold  or  silver 
threads! 

While  Her  Most  Catholic  Majesty  was  issuing  edicts  of 
this  kind  relating  to  the  material  affairs  of  life,  it  must 
not  be  supposed  that  she  was  in  any  way  neglecting  the 
humanities,  for  the  truth  is  quite  the  contrary.  Never 
before  had  such  encouragement  been  given  to  learning  by 
a  Spanish  sovereign,  and  never  before  had  there  been  so 
little  jealousy  of  foreigners  in  the  matter  of  scholarship. 
Isabella  was  the  leader  in  this  broad  movement,  and  from 
all  parts  of  Europe  she  summoned  distinguished  men  in 
science  and  literature,  who  were  installed  at  her  court 
in  positions  of  honor  or  were  given  chairs  in  the  universi- 
ties. The  final  expulsion  of  the  Moors  had  brought  about 
an  era  of  peace  and  quiet  which  was  much  needed,  as 
Spain  had  been  rent  by  so  much  warfare  and  domestic 
strife,  and  for  so  many  years,  that  the  more  solid  attain- 
ments in  literature  had  been  much  neglected,  and  the 


THE  WOMEN  OF  THE   SIXTEENTH  CENTURY         337 

Spanish  nobles  were  covered  with  but  a  polite  veneer 
of  worldly  information  and  knowledge  which  too  often 
cracked  and  showed  the  rough  beneath.  Isabella  endeav- 
ored to  change  this  state  of  affairs,  and  by  her  own  studies, 
and  by  her  manifest  interest  in  the  work  of  the  schools, 
she  soon  succeeded  in  placing  learning  in  a  position  of  high 
esteem,  even  among  the  nobles,  who  did  not  need  it  for 
their  advancement  in  the  world.  Paul  Jove  wrote:  "No 
Spaniard  was  accounted  noble  who  was  indifferent  to 
learning;"  and  so  great  was  the  queen's  influence,  that 
more  than  one  scion  of  a  noble  house  was  glad  to  enter 
upon  a  scholarly  career  and  hold  a  university  appointment. 
It  may  well  be  imagined  that  in  all  this  new  intellectual 
movement  which  was  stimulated  by  Isabella,  it  was  the 
sober  side  of  literature  and  of  scholarship  which  was  en- 
couraged, as  a  light  and  vain  thing  such  as  lyric  poetry 
would  have  been  as  much  out  of  place  in  the  court  of  the 
firm  defender  of  the  Catholic  faith  as  the  traditional  bull 
in  the  traditional  china  shop.  Isabella,  under  priestly  in- 
fluences, favored  and  furthered  the  revival  of  interest  in 
the  study  of  Greek  and  Latin,  and  it  is  in  this  realm  of 
classical  study  that  the  scholars  of  the  time  were  cele- 
brated. 

The  power  of  example  is  a  wonderful  thing  always,  and 
in  the  present  instance  the  direct  results  of  Isabella's  inter- 
est in  education  may  be  seen  in  the  fact  that  many  of  the 
women  of  her  day  began  to  show  an  unusual  interest  in 
schools  and  books.  The  opportunities  for  an  education  were 
not  limited  to  the  members  of  the  sterner  sex,  and  it  appears 
that  both  men  and  women  were  eager  to  take  advantage  of 
the  many  new  opportunities  which  were  afforded  them  at 
this  epoch.  A  certain  Dona  Beatriz  de  Galindo  was  consid- 
ered the  greatest  Latin  scholar  among  the  women  of  her  time, 
and  for  several  years  her  praises  were  sounded  in  all  the 


338  WOMAN 

universities.  Finally,  Dofia  Beatriz  was  appointed  special 
teacher  in  the  Latin  language  to  the  queen  herself;  and  so 
great  was  her  success  with  this  royal  pupil,  that  she  was 
rewarded  with  the  title  la  Latina,  by  which  she  was  com- 
monly known  ever  after.  According  to  a  Spanish  proverb, 
"  the  best  counsel  is  that  of  a  woman,"  and  surely  Isabella 
acted  upon  that  supposition.  This  is  not  all,  however,  for 
not  only  was  a  woman  called  to  give  lessons  to  the  queen, 
but  women  were  intrusted  with  important  university  posi- 
tions, which  they  filled  with  no  small  credit  to  themselves. 
Good  Dr.  Holmes  has  said:  "Our  ice-eyed  brain-women 
are  really  admirable  if  we  only  ask  of  them  just  what  they 
can  give  and  no  more,"  but  the  bluestockings  of  Isabella's 
day  were  by  no  means  ice-eyed  or  limited  in  their  accom- 
plishments, and  they  managed  to  combine  a  rare  grace 
and  beauty  of  the  dark  southern  type  with  a  scholarship 
which  was  most  unusual,  all  things  taken  into  considera- 
tion. Dofia  Francisca  de  Lebrija,  a  daughter  of  the  great 
Andalusian  humanist  Antonio  de  Lebrija,  followed  her 
father's  courses  in  the  universities  of  Seville,  Salamanca, 
and  Alcala,  and  finally,  in  recognition  of  her  great  talents, 
she  was  invited  to  lecture  upon  rhetoric  before  the  Alcala 
students.  At  Salamanca,  too,  there  was  a  liberal  spirit 
shown  toward  women,  and  there  it  was  that  Dofia  Lucia 
de  Medrano  delivered  a  course  of  most  learned  lectures 
upon  classical  Latinity.  These  are  merely  the  more  illus- 
trious among  the  learned  women  of  the  time,  and  must 
not  be  considered  as  the  only  cases  on  record.  Educational 
standards  for  the  majority  of  both  men  and  women  were 
not  high,  as  a  matter  of  course,  and,  from  the  very  nature 
of  things,  there  were  more  learned  men  than  learned 
women;  but  the  fact  remains  that  Isabella's  position  in 
the  whole  matter,  her  desire  to  learn  and  her  desire  to 
give  other  women  the  same  opportunity  and  the  same 


THE  WOMEN  OF  THE  SIXTEENTH  CENTURY        339 

desire,  did  much  to  encourage  an  ambition  of  this  kind 
among  the  wives  and  daughters  of  Spain.  The  queen  was 
a  conspicuous  incarnation  of  woman's  possibilities,  and  her 
enlightened  views  did  much  to  broaden  the  feminine  hori- 
zon. Where  she  led  the  way  others  dared  to  follow,  and 
the  net  result  was  a  distinct  advance  in  national  culture. 
In  spite  of  all  this  intellectual  advance,  the  game  of 
politics  was  still  being  played,  and  women  were  still,  in 
more  than  one  instance,  the  unhappy  pawns  upon  the 
board  who  were  sacrificed  from  time  to  time  in  the  in- 
terest of  some  important  move.  The  success  of  Spanish 
unity  had  aroused  Spanish  ambition,  Fernando  and  Isabella 
had  arranged  political  marriages  for  their  children,  and  the 
sixteenth  century  was  to  show  that,  in  one  instance  at 
least,  this  practical  and  utilitarian  view  of  the  marriage 
relation  brought  untold  misery  and  hardship  to  one  poor 
Spanish  princess.  In  each  case  the  royal  alliances  which 
were  contracted  by  the  Spanish  rulers  for  their  various 
children  were  the  subject  of  much  careful  planning  and 
negotiation,  and  yet,  in  spite  of  it  all,  these  measures  con- 
stitute the  most  conspicuous  failure  in  all  their  long  reign. 
Particularly  pathetic  and  distressing  is  the  story  of  the 
poor  Princess  Juana,  whose  prospects  were  most  brilliant 
and  whose  destiny  was  most  cruel.  Juana  was  married  in 
1496  to  the  Archduke  Philip  of  Austria,  Governor  of  the 
Netherlands  and  heir  to  the  great  domain  of  his  father, 
the  Emperor  Maximilian,  and  the  wedding  had  been  cele- 
brated in  a  most  gorgeous  fashion.  It  was  in  the  month 
of  August  that  a  splendid  Spanish  fleet  set  out  from 
Laredo,  a  little  port  between  Bilbao  and  Santander,  to 
carry  the  Spanish  maiden  to  her  waiting  bridegroom.  As  is 
usual  in  such  affairs,  the  beauty  of  the  girl  had  been  much 
extolled,  and  the  archduke,  then  in  his  eighteenth  year,  was 
all  aglow  with  hope  and  expectation.  Watchmen  had  been 


340  WOMAN 

posted  to  keep  a  lookout  for  the  ships  from  Spain,  and 
when  they  finally  came  in  sight  with  their  glistening  white 
sails  and  their  masts  and  spars  all  gay  with  flags  and 
streamers,  salutes  were  fired  and  they  received  a  royal 
welcome.  The  Spanish  admiral  in  person  led  the  Princess 
Juana  to  meet  her  affianced  husband,  and  soon  after,  in 
the  great  cathedral  at  Lille,  the  two  young  people  were 
married  in  the  midst  of  great  festivities.  It  seems  almost 
pitiful  to  think  of  the  human  side  of  all  this  great  and 
glittering  show.  Juana  was  barely  seventeen  years  of 
age,  alone,  without  mother  or  father  or  sister  or  brother, 
in  a  strange  land,  in  the  midst  of  a  strange  court,  where 
all  about  her  were  speaking  a  strange  language,  and  the 
wife  of  a  youth  whom  she  had  never  seen  until  the  eve  of 
her  marriage!  For  a  few  long  weeks  Juana  was  some- 
what reserved  in  her  new  surroundings,  and  in  her  heart 
she  longed  again  for  Spain;  but  as  the  days  passed  she  be- 
came accustomed  to  her  new  home,  took  pleasure  in  the 
greater  liberty  which  was  now  accorded  her  as  a  married 
woman,  and  soon,  neglected  by  her  parents,  so  far  as  any 
show  of  affection  was  concerned,  she  learned  to  grow 
indifferent  to  them  and  to  all  their  interests.  By  the 
year  1500,  however,  Juana  had  become  a  most  important 
person,  as  death  had  claimed  her  brother  and  her  older 
sisters  and  she  now  remained  the  rightful  heir  not  only  to 
Aragon,  but  to  her  mother's  realm  of  Castile  as  well. 
This  fact  caused  much  uneasiness  in  Spain,  as  such  an 
outcome  was  most  unexpected.  Secret  agents  who  had 
been  sent  to  Flanders  to  inquire  into  the  political  and 
religious  views  of  the  archduchess  brought  back  most  dis- 
couraging reports.  It  was  asserted  that  she  was  no  longer 
a  careful  Catholic,  that  she  "had  little  or  no  devotion," 
and  that  she  was  "  in  the  hands  of  worthless  clerics  from 
Paris."  As  a  matter  of  fact,  Juana,  once  freed  from  the 


THE  WOMEN  OF  THE  SIXTEENTH  CENTURY         341 

ecclesiastical  restraints  which  had  been  imposed  upon  her 
in  her  younger  days  by  her  pious  mother,  did  what  it  was 
most  natural  for  her  to  do, — she  went  to  the  opposite 
extreme.  Spain,  at  that  time,  with  its  Inquisition  and  its 
fervid  zeal  for  Rome,  was  the  most  religious  country  in 
Europe,  while  in  the  Netherlands  there  was  a  growing 
liberal  spirit  which  attracted  the  archduchess.  It  must 
have  been  annoying  to  her  to  feel  that  her  mother, 
Isabella,  was  in  a  constant  fret  about  the  condition  of  her 
soul,  while  otherwise  she  was  treated  with  a  distant 
formality,  entirely  devoid  of  a  mother's  love,  and  it  is  no 
small  wonder  that  she  refused  to  accept  a  spiritual  director 
and  father  confessor  who  had  been  sent  from  Spain  to 
save  her  from  perdition. 

With  all  these  facts  in  mind,  Isabella  was  greatly  troubled, 
for  the  thought  that  the  indifferent  Juana  might  some  day 
reign  in  her  stead  and  undo  all  that  she  had  done  with  so 
much  labor  for  the  glory  of  the  Church  was  naturally 
repugnant  to  her  devout  nature.  Finally,  after  a  son  was 
born  to  Juana,  Charles,  who  was  to  become  at  a  later  day 
the  Emperor  Charles  V.,  the  queen  decided  upon  a  some- 
what doubtful  procedure  to  avert,  for  a  time  at  least,  the 
impending  catastrophe.  The  Cortes,  under  royal  press- 
ure, was  induced  to  provide  for  the  government  after 
Isabella's  death,  in  case  Juana  might  be  absent  from  the 
kingdom,  or  in  case  of  her  "being  present  in  Castile,  but 
unwilling  or  unable  to  reign."  Under  any  or  all  of  those 
circumstances,  it  was  provided  that  Fernando  should  act  as 
regent  until  her  son  Charles  had  reached  his  twentieth 
year,  a  rather  unusual  age,  at  a  time  when  young  princes 
were  frequently  declared  to  have  attained  their  majority 
at  fifteen  or  sixteen.  Isabella's  intention  in  all  this  was 
too  obvious,  for  it  was  plainly  a  part  of  her  plan  that 
Juana  should  never  have  any  share  in  the  government  of 


342  WOMAN 

the  country  of  which  she  was  the  rightful  heir.  The 
whole  transaction  smacks  strongly  of  duplicity  of  the  worst 
kind,  for  at  the  very  time  that  the  Cortes  was  being  pre- 
vailed upon  to  do  this,  Juana  was  being  given  a  royal 
welcome  in  both  Aragon  and  Castile,  for  she  had  been 
induced  to  come  home  for  a  visit;  and  she  was  even 
being  given  public  recognition  as  the  future  queen  of 
these  two  countries.  There  were  feasts  and  tournaments 
given  in  her  honor,  Fernando  and  Isabella  introduced  her 
to  their  subjects  with  apparent  pleasure,  and  yet  under  it 
all  was  this  heartless  trick  which  they  had  planned  in 
utter  defiance  of  the  law.  Still,  the  law  in  Spain  at  this 
time  was  almost  synonymous  with  the  wish  of  the  sov- 
ereign; and  so  powerful  was  Isabella  and  so  great  was  her 
influence  with  her  legislative  body,  that  there  was  little 
dissent  to  the  plan  for  usurpation  which  had  its  origin  in 
her  fertile  brain.  The  reasons  for  this  action  will  never 
be  definitely  known,  perhaps.  It  would  hardly  seem  that 
Juana's  lukewarm  Catholicism  would  be  sufficient  to  war- 
rant so  radical  a  step,  and  it  is  difficult  to  give  credence  to 
the  vaguely  circulated  rumor  that  Juana  was  insane. 

Whether  this  alleged  insanity  was  real  or  not,  it  served 
as  a  pretext  for  the  action  taken,  and  the  report  regarding 
the  unhappy  princess  was  soon  common  property.  When 
Isabella  drew  her  last  breath  in  1504,  Fernando  artfully 
convoked  the  Cortes,  formally  renounced  any  interest  in 
the  succession  to  the  throne  of  Castile,  and  caused  Juana 
and  Philip  to  be  proclaimed  as  successors  to  Isabella  and 
himself.  Within  two  months,  however,  Juana's  claims 
were  completely  disregarded,  it  was  officially  announced 
that  she  was  not  in  her  right  mind,  and  Fernando  was 
empowered  to  take  control  of  the  Castilian  government 
and  rule  as  regent,  according  to  the  terms  of  the  decree 
which  had  been  arranged  by  Isabella  some  years  before, 


THE  WOMEN  OF  THE   SIXTEENTH  CENTURY         343 

and  was  to  remain  as  a  de.  facto  sovereign  until  Charles  had 
reached  the  specified  majority.  The  statements  which 
were  made  to  support  the  claim  as  to  her  insanity  were 
not  altogether  clear,  and  to-day  at  least  they  do  not  seem 
convincing.  Her  attitude  of  indifference  toward  the  ex- 
treme point  of  view  taken  by  her  mother  in  regard  to  reli- 
gion may  have  been  scandalous,  as  no  doubt  it  was  at  that 
time,  but  it  was  hardly  evidence  of  an  impaired  intellect. 
During  her  last  visit  to  Spain  before  her  mother's  death, 
Juana  had  resisted  with  violence  when  she  was  imprisoned 
for  a  time  and  had  not  been  allowed  to  go  to  her  husband, 
and  such  resistance  was  quite  natural  in  a  high-spirited 
young  woman  who  was  being  treated  in  a  high-handed 
and  illegal  manner;  but  because  her  jailer  had  been  the 
Bishop  of  Burgos,  and  because  she  had  been  detained  by 
royal  order,  her  action  was  considered  as  a  certain  indica- 
tion of  mental  derangement.  Again,  it  was  asserted  that 
on  one  occasion,  soon  after  Juana's  return  to  Flanders 
from  the  place  of  her  imprisonment,  she  gave  unmistak- 
able signs  of  insanity  in  the  course  of  a  court  quarrel.  It 
seems  that  during  her  absence  a  certain  lady  in  waiting 
at  her  ducal  court  had  succeeded  in  winning  the  favor  of 
Philip,  and  had  received  such  marked  attentions  from  the 
archduke  that  the  affair  was  soon  gossiped  about  in  every 
nook  and  corner  of  the  palace,  from  scullery  maid  to  the 
lord  high  chamberlain.  Juana  was  given  a  full  account  of 
the  whole  affair  before  she  had  been  in  the  palace  twenty- 
four  hours,  and  it  so  enraged  her  that  she  sought  out  her 
rival  in  her  husband's  affection,  and,  after  a  terrible  scene, 
clipped  the  golden  locks  of  the  fair  enchantress  so  close  to 
her  head  that,  for  a  time  at  least,  her  beauty  was  marred. 
This  was  not  dignified  action,  and  it  might  well  have  been 
the  act  of  any  angered  woman  under  those  circumstances, 
but  in  Spain  the  one  terrible  word  "insanity"  was 


344  WOMAN 

whispered  about  and  no  other  explanation  could  or  would  be 
accepted.  Her  sanity  had  never  been  questioned  in  Flan- 
ders, and,  in  spite  of  her  quick  temper  and  many  unreason- 
able acts,  no  one  had  ever  thought  to  fasten  this  terrible 
suspicion  upon  her.  The  game  was  worth  the  candle, 
however;  Isabella  had  been  unwilling  to  take  any  chances, 
and  the  ambiguous  clause,  "being  present  in  Castile,  but 
unable  or  unwilling  to  reign, "gave  the  hint  which  Fernando 
had  been  only  too  willing  to  act  upon,  and  the  trumped-up 
charge  of  insanity  was  an  easy  thing  to  sustain. 

Fernando's  assumption  of  the  regency,  however,  and 
the  action  of  the  Cortes,  which  virtually  disregarded  the 
claims  of  Juana  to  the  throne,  angered  her  and  her  hus- 
band still  more,  and  they  set  out  by  ship  for  Spain,  after 
some  delay,  to  demand  an  explanation.  Fernando  went 
to  meet  them  at  the  little  village  of  Villafafila,  and  there, 
after  an  audience  with  the  archduke  which  took  place  in 
the  little  parish  church  and  which  lasted  for  several  hours, 
it  was  agreed  between  them  that  Juana,  "on  account  of 
her  infirmities  and  sufferings,  which  decency  forbids  to  be 
related,"  was  to  be  "  refused  under  any  circumstances  to 
occupy  herself  with  the  affairs  of  the  kingdom,"  and  it 
was  mutually  agreed  that  Juana  was  to  be  prevented  by 
force,  if  necessary,  from  taking  any  part  in  the  govern- 
ment of  Castile!  What  happened  in  that  interview  no 
man  can  ever  know  exactly,  but  it  certainly  appears  that 
the  wily  Fernando  had  been  able  by  some  trick  or  mass  of 
false  evidence  to  convince  Philip  that  Juana  was  really 
insane,  and  yet  he  had  been  with  his  wife  almost  continu- 
ally for  the  previous  two  years  and  had  not  thought  of  her 
in  that  light,  and  Fernando  had  not  even  seen  his  daughter 
within  that  same  space  of  time!  But  then  and  there  the 
fate  of  the  much-abused  princess  was  definitely  decided. 
Juana,  self-willed  as  she  had  shown  herself  to  be,  was  not 


THE  WOMEN  OF  THE  SIXTEENTH  CENTURY         345 

a  woman  of  strong  character  or  any  great  ability,  and  her 
husband  had  so  regularly  controlled  her  and  bent  her  to 
his  will  that  he  found  little  trouble  in  the  present  instance 
in  deposing  her  entirely,  that  he  might  rule  Castile  in  her 
stead.  When  Philip  died  suddenly  two  months  after  he 
had  assumed  the  reigns  of  goverment,  Juana  was  stricken 
with  a  great  grief,  which,  it  is  said,  did  not  at  first  find  the 
ordinary  solace  afforded  by  tears.  She  refused  for  a  long 
time  to  believe  him  dead;  and  when  there  was  no  longer 
any  doubt  of  the  fact,  she  became  almost  violent  in  her 
sorrow.  She  had  watched  by  her  husband's  bedside  during 
his  illness,  and  was  most  suspicious  of  all  who  had  anything 
to  do  with  her,  for  she  thought,  as  was  probably  the  case, 
that  Philip  had  been  poisoned,  and  she  feared  that  the 
same  fate  might  be  reserved  for  her.  In  any  event,  Juana 
was  treated  with  little  or  no  consideration  at  this  unhappy 
moment;  the  Cardinal  Ximenes,  who  had  been  made  grand 
inquisitor,  assumed  control  of  the  state  until  Fernando 
might  be  summoned  from  Naples,  whither  he  had  gone; 
and,  all  in  all,  the  rightful  heir  to  the  throne  was  utterly 
despised  and  disregarded.  She  was  allowed  to  follow  her 
husband's  body  to  its  last  resting  place,  and  then,  after  a 
brief  delay,  she  went  to  live  at  Arcos,  where  she  was  well 
watched  and  guarded  by  her  jealous  father,  who  feared 
that  some  disaffected  nobles  might  seek  her  out  and  gain 
her  aid  in  organizing  a  revolt  against  his  own  government. 
While  in  this  seclusion,  Juana  was  sought  in  marriage  by 
several  suitors,  and  among  them  Henry  VII.  of  England; 
but  all  these  negotiations  came  to  naught,  and  in  the  end 
she  was  sent  to  the  fortress  of  Tordesillas,  where  she  was 
kept  in  close  confinement  until  the  time  of  her  death. 

There  is  no  trustworthy  evidence  to  show  that  Juana 
was  mad  before  the  death  of  her  husband,  and  all  her 
eccentricities  of  manner  could  well  have  been  accounted 


346  WOMAN 

for  by  her  wayward,  jealous,  and  hysterical  character,  but 
after  her  domestic  tragedy  there  is  little  doubt  but  that  her 
mind  was  to  some  degree  unsettled.  Naturally  nervous, 
and  feeling  herself  in  the  absolute  power  of  persons  who 
were  hostile  to  her  interests,  she  became  most  excitable 
and  suspicious,  and  may  well  have  lost  her  reason  before 
her  last  hour  came.  The  story  of  her  confinement  in  the 
old  fortress  at  Tordesillas  is  enough  in  itself  to  show  that 
stronger  minds  than  hers  might  have  given  way  under 
that  strain.  This  palace-prison  overlooked  the  river 
Douro,  and  was  composed  of  a  great  hall,  which  extended 
across  the  front  of  the  building,  and  a  number  of  small, 
dark,  and  poorly  ventilated  rooms  at  the  back.  In  addi- 
tion to  the  jailer,  who  was  responsible  for  the  prisoner, 
the  place  was  filled  with  a  number  of  women,  whose  duty 
it  was  to  keep  a  close  watch  upon  Juana  and  prevent  her 
from  making  any  attempt  to  escape.  The  use  of  the  great 
hall  with  its  view  across  the  river  was  practically  denied 
to  her,  she  was  never  allowed  to  look  out  of  the  window 
under  any  circumstances,  for  fear  she  might  appeal  to 
some  passer-by  for  aid,  and,  in  general,  unless  she  was 
under  especial  surveillance,  she  was  confined,  day  in  and 
day  out,  in  a  little  back  room,  a  veritable  cell,  which  was 
without  windows,  and  where  her  only  light  came  from  the 
rude  candles  common  to  that  age.  Priests  were  frequent 
visitors,  but,  to  the  end,  Juana  would  have  nothing  to  do 
with  them,  and  it  is  even  said  that  on  more  than  one  occa- 
sion she  had  to  be  dragged  to  the  prison  chapel  when  she 
was  ordered  to  hear  mass.  No  man  can  tell  whether  this 
unhappy  woman  would  have  developed  a  strong,  self- 
reliant  character  if  the  course  of  her  life  had  been  other 
than  it  was,  but,  accepting  the  facts  as  they  stand,  there 
is  no  more  pathetic  figure  in  all  the  history  of  Spain  than 
this  poor,  mistreated  Juana  la  Loca,  "the  mad  Juana," 


THE  WOMEN  OF  THE  SIXTEENTH  CENTURY         347 

and  to  every  diligent  student  of  Spanish  history  this  in- 
stance of  woman's  inhumanity  to  woman  will  ever  be  a 
blot  on  the  scutcheon  of  the  celebrated  Isabella  of  Castile. 
The  religious  fanaticism  which  was  responsible  in  part 
at  least  for  the  fate  of  Juana  soon  took  shape  in  a  modified 
form  as  a  definite  national  policy,  and  the  grandson  and 
great-grandson  of  Isabella,  Charles  V.  and  his  son,  King 
Philip,  showed  themselves  equally  ardent  in  the  defence 
of  the  Catholic  faith,  even  if  their  ardor  did  not  lead  them 
to  treat  with  inhumanity  some  member  of  their  own  family. 
Spain  gloried  in  this  religious  leadership,  exhausted  her- 
self in  her  efforts  to  maintain  the  cause  of  Rome  in  the 
face  of  the  growing  force  of  the  Reformation,  and  not  only 
sent  her  sons  to  die  upon  foreign  battlefields,  but  ruth- 
lessly took  the  lives  of  many  of  her  best  citizens  at  home 
in  her  despairing  efforts  to  wipe  out  every  trace  of  heresy. 
This  whole  ecclesiastical  campaign  produced  a  marked 
change  in  the  character  of  the  Spanish  people;  they  lost 
many  of  their  easy-going  ways,  while  retaining  their  in- 
domitable spirit  of  national  pride,  and  became  stern,  vin- 
dictive, and  bigoted.  In  the  process  of  this  transformation, 
the  women  of  the  country  were  perhaps  in  advance  of  the 
men  in  responding  to  the  new  influences  which  were  at 
work  upon  them.  The  number  of  convents  increased 
rapidly,  every  countryside  had  its  wonder-working  nun 
who  could  unveil  the  mysteries  of  the  world  while  in  the 
power  of  some  ecstatic  trance,  and  women  everywhere 
were  the  most  tireless  supporters  of  the  clergy.  It  was 
natural  that  this  should  be  the  case,  for  there  was  a  nervous 
excitement  in  the  air  which  was  especially  effective  upon 
feminine  minds,  and  the  Spanish  woman  in  particular  was 
sensitive  and  impressionable  and  easily  influenced.  Among 
all  of  the  devout  women  of  this  age  living  a  conventual 
life,  the  most  distinguished,  beyond  any  question,  was 


348  WOMAN 

Teresa  de  Cepeda,  who  is  perhaps  the  favorite  saint  of 
modern  Spain  to-day. 

Teresa's  early  life  resembled  that  of  any  other  well-born 
young  girl  of  her  time,  although  she  must  have  enjoyed 
rather  exceptional  educational  advantages,  as  her  father 
was  a  man  of  scholarly  instincts,  who  took  an  interest  in  his 
daughter's  development  and  sedulously  cultivated  her  taste 
for  books.  When  Teresa  was  born  in  1515,  the  Spanish 
romances  of  chivalry  and  knight-errantry  were  in  the  full 
tide  of  their  popularity;  and  as  soon  as  the  little  girl  was 
able  to  read,  she  spent  many  hours  over  these  fascinating 
tales.  Endowed  by  nature  with  a  very  unusual  imagina- 
tion, she  was  soon  so  much  absorbed  in  these  wonder 
tales,  which  were  her  mother's  delight,  that  she  often  sat 
up  far  into  the  night  to  finish  the  course  of  some  absorbing 
adventure.  At  this  juncture,  her  father,  fearing  that  this 
excitement  might  be  harmful,  tried  to  divert  her  mind  by 
putting  in  her  way  books  of  pious  origin,  wherein  the 
various  trials  and  tribulations  of  the  Christian  martyrs 
were  described  in  a  most  graphic  and  realistic  style.  Soon 
Teresa  was  even  more  interested  in  these  stories  than  in 
those  of  a  more  worldly  character,  and  the  glories  of  mar- 
tyrdom, which  were  described  as  leading  to  a  direct  enjoy- 
ment of  heavenly  bliss  without  any  purgatorial  delay,  made 
such  a  profound  impression  upon  her  youthful  mind  that 
she  resolved  at  the  early  age  of  seven  to  start  out  in  search 
of  a  martyr's  crown.  Prevailing  upon  her  little  brother  to 
accompany  her  in  this  quest  for  celestial  happiness,  she 
started  out  for  the  country  of  the  Moors,  deeming  that  the 
surest  way  to  attain  the  desired  goal.  While  this  childish 
enthusiasm  was  nipped  in  the  bud  by  the  timely  interven- 
tion of  an  uncle,  who  met  the  two  pilgrims  trudging  along 
the  highway,  the  idea  lost  none  of  its  fascination  for  a 
time;  and  the  two  children  immediately  began  to  play  at 


THE  WOMEN  OF  THE  SIXTEENTH  CENTURY         349 

being  hermits  in  their  father's  garden,  and  made  donation 
to  all  the  beggars  in  the  neighborhood  of  whatever  they 
could  find  to  give  away,  depriving  themselves  of  many 
customary  pleasures  to  satisfy  their  pious  zeal.  With  the 
lapse  of  time,  however,  this  morbid  sentiment  seemed  to 
disappear,  and  Teresa  was  much  like  any  other  girl  in  her 
enjoyment  of  the  innocent  pleasures  of  life.  Avila,  in  Old 
Castile,  was  her  home,  and  there  she  was  sent  to  an 
Augustinian  convent  to  complete  her  education,  but  without 
any  idea  that  she  would  eventually  adopt  a  religious  life 
for  herself.  This  convent,  indeed,  seemed  to  make  little 
impression  upon  her,  and  it  was  only  after  a  chance  visit 
made  to  an  uncle  who  was  about  to  enter  a  monastery, 
and  who  entreated  her  to  withdraw  from  the  vanities  of 
the  world,  that  she  seems  to  have  gone  back  with  un- 
dimmed  ardor  to  her  childish  notions.  In  spite  of  her 
father's  opposition,  Teresa,  in  her  eighteenth  year,  left 
home  one  morning  and  went  to  install  herself  at  the  Car- 
melite convent  of  the  Incarnation,  which  was  situated  in 
the  outskirts  of  her  native  city.  The  lax  discipline  and 
somewhat  worldly  tone  of  the  place  proved  a  great  sur- 
prise to  her,  as  she  had  imagined  that  the  odor  of  sanctity 
must  be  all-pervasive  in  a  religious  house;  but  she  evi- 
dently accommodated  herself  to  the  conditions  as  she  found 
them,  for  she  made  no  decided  protest  and  gave  evidence 
of  no  special  piety  until  twenty  years  after  she  had  for- 
mally given  up  the  world.  Then,  saddened  and  sobered 
by  her  father's  death,  Teresa  began  to  have  wonderful 
trances,  accompanied  by  visions  wherein  Christ,  crucified, 
appeared  to  her  time  and  time  again.  Although  in  later 
times  these  unusual  experiences  have  been  adduced  to 
prove  her  saintship,  at  the  time  of  their  occurrence  they 
were  not  looked  upon  in  the  same  light,  and  there  were 
many  who  said  that  Teresa  was  possessed  of  devils.  She 


350  WOMAN 

was  more  than  half  inclined  to  this  view  of  the  case  her- 
self, and  the  eminent  religious  authorities  who  were  con- 
sulted in  the  matter  advised  her  to  scourge  herself  without 
mercy,  and  to  exorcise  the  figures,  both  celestial  and  in- 
fernal, which  continued  to  appear  before  her.  The  strange 
experiences  continued  to  trouble  her,  however,  in  spite  of 
all  that  she  could  do,  and  to  the  end  of  her  days  she  was 
subject  to  them.  Constantly  occupied  with  illusions  and 
hallucinations,  she  soon  became  a  religious  mystic,  living 
apart  from  the  world  and  yet  deeply  interested  in  its  spir- 
itual welfare.  One  of  her  visions  in  particular  shows  into 
what  a  state  of  religious  exaltation  she  could  be  thrown. 
She  imagined  herself  a  frameless  mirror  of  infinite  size, 
with  Christ  shining  in  the  middle  of  it,  and  the  mirror 
itself,  she  knew  not  how,  was  in  Christ! 

In  the  midst  of  these  experiences  Teresa  began  to  won- 
der what  she  could  do  for  the  real  advancement  of  the 
Church,  and  her  first  thought  was  that  there  must  be 
reform  in  the  convents  if  the  cause  of  religion  was  to 
prosper.  Discouraged  by  the  members  of  her  own  con- 
vent, who  looked  upon  any  reform  movement  as  a  reflection 
upon  their  own  establishment,  Teresa  was  nevertheless 
encouraged  to  go  on  with  her  work  by  certain  far-seeing 
ecclesiastics  who  were  able  to  appreciate  its  ultimate  value. 
It  was  her  plan  to  establish  a  convent  wherein  all  the  early 
and  austere  regulations  of  the  Carmelite  order  were  to  be 
observed,  and,  by  working  secretly,  she  was  able  to  carry 
it  out.  There  was  violent  protest,  which  almost  led  to 
violence,  and  it  was  only  after  full  papal  approval  that  she 
was  allowed  to  go  about  her  business  unmolested.  The 
reorganizing  spirit  of  the  Counter-Reformation  which  was 
now  at  work  within  the  Catholic  Church  gave  her  moral 
support,  and  the  remaining  years  of  her  life  were  devoted 
to  the  work  of  conventual  reorganization  and  regeneration 


THE  WOMEN  OF  THE  SIXTEENTH  CENTURY         351 

which  she  had  begun  with  so  stout  a  heart.  It  was  her 
wont  to  travel  everywhere  in  a  little  cart  which  was  drawn 
by  a  single  donkey,  and  winter  and  summer  she  went  her 
way,  enduring  innumerable  hardships  and  privations,  that 
her  work  might  prosper.  Sixteen  convents  and  fourteen 
monasteries  were  founded  as  the  result  of  her  efforts;  and 
as  her  sincerity  and  single-mindedness  became  more  and 
more  apparent,  she  was  everywhere  hailed  by  the  people 
as  a  devout  and  holy  woman,  and  was  even  worshipped 
by  some  as  a  saint  on  earth.  Disappointment  and  failure 
were  her  lot  at  times,  and  she  found  it  difficult  to  maintain 
the  stern  discipline  of  which  she  was  such  an  ardent  advo- 
cate. On  one  occasion,  it  is  said  that  her  nuns  in  the 
convent  of  Saint  Joseph,  at  Avila,  went  on  a  strike  and 
demanded  a  meat  diet,  which,  it  may  be  added,  she  refused 
to  grant;  and  a  prioress  at  Medina  answered  one  of  her 
communications  in  a  very  impertinent  manner  and  showed 
other  signs  of  insubordination;  but  Teresa  was  calm  and 
unruffled,  in  her  outward  demeanor  at  least,  and  found  a 
way  by  tactful  management,  and  by  a  judicious  show  of 
her  authority,  to  settle  all  differences  and  disputes  without 
great  difficulty.  When  death  overtook  her  in  1582,  mira- 
cles were  worked  about  her  tomb,  and  when  the  vault 
was  opened,  after  a  period  of  nine  months,  it  is  asserted 
that  her  body  was  uncorrupted.  Removed  to  a  last  resting 
place  at  Avila  at  a  somewhat  later  date,  her  bones  were 
finally  carried  off  by  pious  relic  hunters,  who  believed 
them  to  possess  miraculous  properties.  In  the  forty  years 
which  followed  her  death,  Teresa  was  so  revered  through- 
out her  native  land  that  she  was  canonized  by  Pope  Greg- 
ory XV.  in  1622.  To  her  exalted  spirit  were  joined  a  firm 
judgment  and  a  wonderful  power  of  organization,  and  in 
placing  her  among  the  saints  she  was  given  a  merited 
reward  for  her  holy  labors. 


352  WOMAN 

The  harsh  intolerance  which  came  with  the  Spanish 
Counter-Reformation  manifested  itself  oftentimes  in  acts 
of  cruelty  and  oppression  which  are  almost  beyond  belief. 
So  eager  were  the  zealots  for  the  triumph  of  pure  and 
unadulterated  Catholicism,  that  no  consideration  whatever 
was  shown  for  the  Moriscoes,  or  Spanish  Moors,  whose 
form  of  belief  was  Catholic,  but  tinged  with  Moslem 
usages,  and  even  women  and  children  were  made  to  suffer 
the  unreasoning  persecution  of  the  Christians.  One  of- 
fensive measure  after  another  was  adopted  for  the  discom- 
fiture of  the  thrifty  sons  of  the  Prophet,  and  finally,  with 
the  purpose  of  wiping  out  all  distinctions  of  any  kind  which 
might  lead  to  a  retention  of  national  characteristics,  it  was 
decreed  in  1567  that  no  woman  should  walk  abroad  with 
a  covered  face.  Such  a  measure  was  certainly  short- 
sighted. For  hundreds  of  years  this  Oriental  custom  had 
been  common  in  southern  Spain;  it  was  significant  of  much 
of  their  idea  of  social  order  and  decency,  and  any  attempt 
to  abolish  it  with  a  single  stroke  of  a  Catholic  pen  was 
both  unwise  and  imprudent.  According  to  Hume,  "this 
practice  had  taken  such  a  firm  hold  of  the  people  of  the 
south  of  Spain  that  traces  of  it  remain  to  the  present  day 
in  Andalusia,  where  the  women  of  the  poorer  classes  con- 
stantly cover  the  lower  part  of  the  face  with  the  corner  of 
a  shawl.  In  Peru  and  Chili  (originally  colonized  by  the 
Spanish)  the  custom  is  even  more  universal."  Yet  it  was 
this  firmly  rooted  habit  that  the  Christians  tried  to  destroy! 
As  the  result  of  this  order,  the  majority  of  the  Spanish 
women  showed  themselves  in  public  as  rarely  as  possible, 
and  then  they  tried  to  evade  the  law  whenever  they  could. 
Other  measures,  equally  severe  and  equally  impossible, 
which  were  enacted  at  the  same  time,  ended  finally,  as 
might  have  been  expected,  in  a  desperate  revolt.  A  horde 
of  Moslem  fanatics,  goaded  to  desperation,  swept  down 


THE  WOMEN  OF  THE  SIXTEENTH  CENTURY         353 

upon  the  Christians  of  Granada,  and  there  was  a  terrible 
massacre.  This  was  all  that  was  necessary  to  start  the 
Spaniards  upon  a  campaign  which  was  still  more  cruel 
than  any  which  had  preceded  it,  for  now  the  avowed 
object  was  revenge  and  not  war.  Six  thousand  helpless 
women  and  children  were  slaughtered  in  a  single  day  by 
the  Marquis  de  los  Velez,  and  this  is  but  a  single  instance 
of  the  bloodthirsty  spirit  which  was  rampant  at  the  time. 
Even  among  the  Spanish  people,  the  officers  of  the  In- 
quisition found  many  victims,  and  women  quite  as  often 
as  men  had  to  endure  its  rigors.  In  spite  of  the  many 
centuries  of  Christian  influence,  there  were  still  to  be 
found  in  various  parts  of  the  country  remnants  of  the  old 
pagan  worship  which  were  difficult  to  eradicate.  It  was 
claimed  that  sects  were  in  existence  which  not  only  denied 
the  Christian  faith,  but  openly  acknowledged  the  Devil  as 
their  patron  and  promised  obedience  to  him!  In  the  cere- 
monies attendant  upon  this  worship  of  the  powers  of  dark- 
ness, women  played  no  unimportant  part,  and  many  were 
the  reputed  witches  who  were  supposed  to  be  on  terms  of 
intimate  acquaintance  with  the  arch-fiend  in  person.  As 
the  suppression  of  this  heresy  was  assumed  by  the 
Church,  the  Inquisition,  as  its  punitive  organ,  took  charge 
of  the  matter  and  showed  little  mercy  in  its  dealings  with 
suspected  persons,  for  whom  the  rack  and  other  instruments 
of  torture  were  put  to  frequent  use.  In  the  year  1507  the 
Inquisition  of  Calahorra  burned  more  than  thirty  women 
as  sorceresses  and  magicians,  and  twenty  years  later,  in 
Navarre,  there  were  similar  condemnations.  So  frequent, 
indeed,  were  these  arrests  for  magic  and  sorcery,  that  the 
"sect  of  sorcerers,"  as  it  was  called,  seemed  to  be  making 
great  headway  throughout  the  whole  country,  and  the 
Inquisition  called  upon  all  good  Christians  to  lodge  informa- 
tion with  the  proper  authorities  whenever  they  "  heard 


354  WOMAN 

that  any  person  had  familiar  spirits,  and  that  he  invoked 
demons  in  circles,  questioning  them  and  expecting  their 
answer,  as  a  magician,  or  in  virtue  of  an  express  or  tacit 
compact."  It  was  also  their  duty  to  report  anyone  who 
"constructed  or  procured  mirrors,  rings,  phials,  or  other 
vessels  for  the  purpose  of  attracting,  enclosing,  and  pre- 
serving a  demon,  who  replies  to  his  questions  and  assists 
him  in  obtaining  his  wishes;  or  who  had  endeavored  to 
discover  the  future  by  interrogating  demons  in  possessed 
people;  or  tried  to  produce  the  same  effect  by  invoking  the 
devil  under  the  name  of  holy  angel  or  white  angel,  and  by 
asking  things  of  him  with  prayers  and  humility,  by  prac- 
tising other  superstitious  ceremonies  with  vases,  phials  of 
water,  or  consecrated  tapers;  by  the  inspection  of  the 
nails,  and  of  the  palm  of  the  hand  rubbed  with  vinegar,  or 
by  endeavoring  to  obtain  representations  of  objects  by 
means  of  phantoms  in  order  to  learn  secret  things  or 
which  had  not  then  happened."  Such  orders  led  to  the 
arrest  of  hundreds  of  women  all  over  Spain,  and  many,  of 
them  went  to  death  in  the  flames,  for  women  rather  than 
men  were  affected  by  this  crusade,  as  they  were  generally 
the  adepts  in  these  matters  of  the  black  art.  That  such 
things  could  be  in  Spain  at  this  time  may  cause  some 
surprise,  but  it  must  be  remembered  that  superstition  dies 
hard  and  that  many  of  the  things  which  are  here  condemned 
are  still  advertised  in  the  columns  of  the  newspapers,  and 
the  belief  in  the  supernatural  seems  to  have  taken  a  new 
lease  of  life  as  the  result  of  certain  modern  investigations. 
Superstition  has  ever  gone  hand  in  hand  with  civilization,  in 
spite  of  the  repeated  efforts  of  the  latter  to  go  its  way  alone. 
Witches  and  sorceresses,  however,  were  far  outnum- 
bered in  the  prisons  of  the  Inquisition  by  the  numerous 
Spanish  women  who  were  accused  of  Lutheranism,  for  the 
reformed  doctrines  had  succeeded  in  making  great  progress 


THE  WOMEN  OF  THE  SIXTEENTH  CENTURY         355 

even  here  in  this  hotbed  of  popery,  and  many  persons 
were  burned  for  their  lack  of  faith  in  the  old  formulas  of 
belief.  An  auto  de  ft  was  a  great  public  holiday,  cele- 
brated in  some  large  open  square,  which  had  been  espe- 
cially prepared  for  the  event,  with  tiers  upon  tiers  of  seats 
arranged  on  every  side  for  the  accommodation  of  the 
thousands  of  spectators;  and  to  this  inspiring  performance 
came  many  noble  ladies,  decked  out  as  if  for  a  bull  fight, 
and  eager  to  witness  each  act  of  atrocity  in  its  slightest 
detail.  The  names  of  scores  of  the  women  who  perished 
in  this  way  might  be  cited  to  show  that  from  all  classes 
the  Church  was  claiming  its  victims;  and  even  after  death, 
condemnation  might  come  and  punishment  might  be  in- 
flicted. To  illustrate  the  possibilities  of  this  religious  fury, 
the  case  of  Dofia  Eleanora  de  Vibero  will  more  than  suffice. 
She  had  been  buried  at  Valladolid,  without  any  doubt  as 
to  her  orthodoxy,  but  she  was  later  accused  of  Lutheran- 
ism  by  a  treasurer  of  the  Inquisition,  who  said  that  she 
had  concealed  her  opinions  by  receiving  the  sacraments 
and  the  Eucharist  at  the  time  of  her  death.  His  charges 
were  supported  by  the  testimony  of  several  witnesses, 
who  had  been  tortured  or  threatened;  and  the  result  of  it 
all  was  that  her  memory  and  her  posterity  were  condemned 
to  infamy,  her  property  was  confiscated,  and  at  the  first 
solemn  auto  deft  of  Valladolid,  held  in  1559,  and  attended 
by  the  Prince  Don  Carlos  and  the  Princess  Juana,  her 
disinterred  body  was  burned  with  her  effigy,  her  house 
was  razed  to  the  ground,  and  a  monument  with  an  inscrip- 
tion relating  to  this  event  was  placed  upon  the  spot. 

Such  is  this  sixteenth  century  in  Spain,  an  age  of  strange 
contrasts,  where  the  greatest  crimes  are  committed  in  the 
holy  name  of  Religion! 


X5X 


S>loto  Hecag  of 


XIX 

THE   SLOW  DECAY  OF  SPANISH   POWER 

WHEN  the  long  and  unfortunate  reign  of  Philip  the 
Catholic  came  to  an  end  on  the  eve  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  Spain,  sadly  buffeted  by  the  rough  waves  of  an 
adverse  fortune,  was  in  a  most  pitiful  condition.  With 
the  downfall  of  the  great  Armada  which  was  so  confidently 
destined  to  humble  the  pride  of  England,  national  confi- 
dence had  begun  to  slip  away,  the  wars  at  home  and  in 
the  Netherlands  had  sadly  depleted  the  treasury,  the 
credit  of  the  country  was  far  from  good,  and  gradually,  as 
a  natural  reaction  after  the  religious  exaltation  which  had 
marked  the  whole  of  the  sixteenth  century,  a  spirit  of 
irreligion  and  licentiousness  became  prevalent  in  all  classes 
of  society.  As  Philip  had  grown  older  and  more  ascetic  in 
his  tastes,  he  had  gradually  withdrawn  from  society  and 
had  left  his  court  to  its  own  devices.  With  his  death,  in 
1 598,  the  last  restraint  was  gone,  and  there  was  no  limit 
to  the  excesses  of  the  insensate  nation.  Having  failed  in 
their  great  and  zealous  effort  to  fasten  Spanish  Catholicism 
upon  the  whole  of  Europe,  they  had  finally  accepted  a 
milder  philosophy,  and  had  decided  to  enjoy  the  present 
rather  than  continue  to  labor  for  a  somewhat  doubtful 
reward  in  the  life  which  was  to  come.  The  young  king, 
Philip  III.,  who  began  to  reign  under  these  circumstances, 
was  wedded  in  1599  to  the  Archduchess  Margaret  of  Aus- 
tria, and  the  feasts  and  celebrations  which  were  organized 

359 


360  WOMAN 

in  honor  of  this  event  outri vailed  in  their  magnificence 
anything  of  the  kind  that  had  taken  place  in  Spain  for 
many  years,  and  there  was  a  free  and  libertine  spirit  about 
all  of  this  merrymaking  which  did  not  augur  well  for  the 
future.  The  Duke  of  Lerma,  the  king's  favorite  and 
prime  minister,  was  in  full  charge  of  the  affair,  and  he 
spared  no  pains  in  his  desire  to  make  a  brave  show,  in 
spite  of  the  critical  financial  condition  of  the  country.  The 
young  Austrian  princess,  upon  her  arrival  at  Madrid,  was 
fairly  dazzled  by  the  reception  she  was  given;  and  well 
she  may  have  been,  for  the  money  expended  for  this  pur- 
pose reaches  proportions  which  almost  surpass  belief.  The 
Cortes  appropriated  one  million  ducats  for  the  occasion, 
and  the  nobles  spent  three  million  more,  three  hundred 
thousand  of  this  sum  having  been  contributed  by  Lerma 
from  his  own  private  revenues. 

The  Spanish  court  now  changed  its  character  completely, 
and  the  sombre  simplicity  of  the  elder  Philip's  day  gave 
place  to  a  gayety  and  brilliant  ceremonial  which  were  more 
in  accord  with  the  new  spirit  of  the  times.  Lerma  filled 
the  palace  at  Madrid  with  brilliant  ladies  in  waiting,  for  he 
believed,  with  the  gallant  Francis  I.  of  France,  that  a  royal 
court  without  women  is  like  a  year  without  spring,  a 
spring  without  flowers;  and  a  marvellous  round  of  pleas- 
ures began,  all  governed  by  a  stately  etiquette.  But  this 
gay  life  was  rotten  at  the  core;  the  immodest  and  shame- 
less conduct  of  the  women  in  particular  shocked  and  sur- 
prised all  visiting  foreigners;  and  as  time  went  on,  the 
social  evil  increased  and  became  more  widespread.  Virtue 
in  women  was  a  subject  for  jest,  the  cities  were  perfect 
sinks  of  iniquity,  to  quote  Hume,  and,  in  Madrid  in  par- 
ticular, immorality  was  so  common  among  the  women  that 
the  fact  passed  into  a  proverbial  saying.  Homer  has  said: 
"  Than  woman  there  is  no  fouler  and  viler  fiend  when  her 


THE  SLOW  DECAY  OF  SPANISH  POWER  361 

mind  is  bent  on  ill;"  and  even  were  the  superlatives  to  be 
lopped  from  this  expression,  it  might  still  help  to  express 
the  fact  that  the  moral  degeneracy  of  Spain  in  her  new 
career  of  wantonness  was  at  least  shared  by  the  women. 
At  the  court,  the  king,  who  was  in  many  ways  what  might 
be  termed  a  mystic  voluptuary,  spent  his  time  in  alternate 
fits  of  dissipation  and  devotion,  wasted  his  time  in  gallan- 
try, and  neglected  his  royal  duties;  and  the  all-powerful 
Lerma  was  the  centre  of  a  world  of  graft,  where  the  high- 
est offices  in  the  land  were  bartered  for  gold,  and  every 
noble  had  an  itching  palm.  In  this  scene  of  disorder 
women  played  no  little  part,  and  through  intrigue  and 
cajolery  they  often  won  the  day  for  their  favored  lovers. 
Religion  gave  place  to  recklessness,  valor  disappeared  in 
vanity,  and  a  splendid  idleness  replaced  a  splendid  indus- 
try. One  Cortes  after  another  protested,  measures  were 
adopted  which  sought  to  bring  the  nation  to  its  senses, 
new  sumptuary  laws  were  enacted,  but  all  to  no  avail;  for 
the  nobility  continued  to  set  an  example  of  glittering  prodi- 
gality, and  the  common  people  were  not  slow  to  follow. 

When  another  Philip,  the  fourth  of  this  name,  came  to 
the  throne  in  1621,  the  situation  was  almost  hopeless. 
The  country  was  involved  in  the  Thirty  Years'  War,  one 
failure  after  another  befell  the  Spanish  arms,  the  taxes 
had  become  unbearable,  and  in  many  quarters  revolt  was 
threatened.  The  king  was  not  equal  to  his  task,  govern- 
ment was  an  irksome  duty  for  him,  and  he  found  his 
greatest  pleasure  in  two  things,  hunting  and  the  theatre. 
Madrid  at  this  time  was  theatre-mad,  playhouses  were 
numerous,  and  the  people  thronged  them  every  night. 
The  ladies  of  the  nobility  had  their  special  boxes,  which 
were  their  own  private  property,  furnished  in  a  lavish 
way,  and  there  every  evening  they  held  their  little  court 
and  dispensed  favors  to  their  many  admirers.  It  was  the 


362  WOMAN 

first  time  in  the  history  of  the  theatre  that  women's  rSles 
were  being  played  quite  generally  by  women,  and,  as  was 
most  natural,  certain  actresses  soon  sprang  into  popular 
favor  and  vied  with  each  other  for  the  plaudits  of  the 
multitude.  In  theory  the  stage  was  frowned  at  by  the 
Church,  the  plays  were  very  often  coarse  and  licen- 
tious in  character,  and  the  moral  influence  of  this  source 
of  popular  amusement  was  decidedly  bad;  but  the  tinsel 
queens  of  that  age,  as  in  the  present  time,  were  invested 
with  a  glamour  which  had  an  all-compelling  charm,  and 
noble  protectors  were  never  wanting.  Among  the  actresses 
of  notoriety  in  this  Spanish  carnival  of  life,  the  most  cele- 
brated were  Maria  Riquelme,  Francisca  Beson,  Josefa  Vaca, 
and  Maria  Calderon,  familiarly  known  to  the  theatre-goers 
as  la  bella  Calderona.  Philip  IV.,  as  much  infatuated  as 
the  meanest  of  his  subjects  by  the  glitter  of  the  footlights, 
never  lost  an  opportunity  when  at  his  capital  to  spend  his 
evenings  in  the  royal  box,  where  he  showed  his  appreciation 
by  most  generous  applause;  and  he  was  soon  on  familiar 
terms  with  many  of  the  reigning  favorites.  Among  them 
all,  La  Calderona  seemed  to  please  him  most,  and  she  was 
soon  the  recipient  of  so  many  royal  favors  that  no  one 
could  doubt  her  conquest.  Other  lovers  were  discarded, 
she  became  Philip's  mistress,  and  she  it  was  who  bore  to 
him  a  son,  the  celebrated  Don  Juan,  who  became  in  later 
years  a  leader  in  revolt  against  his  father's  widowed  queen. 
In  the  midst  of  this  troubled  life,  divided  between  the 
pleasures  of  the  chase,  the  excitements  of  the  theatre,  and 
the  many  vexations  of  state,  Philip  was  reserved  in  his 
dealings  with  his  fellow  men,  and  few  fathomed  the  depth  of 
his  despair  in  the  face  of  the  approaching  national  ruin.  One 
person  seemed  to  have  read  the  sadness  of  his  heart,  how- 
ever, and  that  person,  with  whom  he  had  a  most  extended 
correspondence,  was,  strange  to  relate,  a  woman,  and  a 


THE  SLOW  DECAY  OF  SPANISH  POWER  363 

nun  of  the  most  devout  type,  Sister  Maria  de  Agreda!  The 
history  of  this  woman  is  most  interesting,  and  she  seems 
to  have  been  the  one  serious  and  restraining  element  in 
all  that  scene  of  gay  riot.  The  Agreda  family,  belonging 
to  the  lesser  nobility,  lived  on  the  frontiers  of  Aragon,  and 
there,  in  their  city  of  Agreda,  they  had  founded  in  1619 
a  convent,  following  a  pretended  revelation  which  had 
directed  them  to  this  holy  undertaking.  The  year  after 
the  convent  was  completed,  Maria  de  Agreda,  who  was 
then  eighteen,  and  her  mother,  took  the  veil  at  the  same 
time  and  retired  from  the  vanity  of  the  world.  In  seven 
years  the  young  girl  was  made  the  mother  superior  of  the 
institution,  and,  beginning  from  that  date,  she  was  subject 
to  frequent  visions  of  a  most  surprising  character.  God 
and  the  Virgin  appeared  to  her  repeatedly,  commanding 
her  each  time  to  write  the  life  of  Mary;  but  in  spite  of 
these  supernatural  admonitions,  she  resisted  for  ten  long 
years,  fearing  that  she  might  be  possessed  of  demons  who 
came  in  celestial  shape  to  urge  her  to  a  work  which  she 
felt  to  be  beyond  her  powers.  Finally,  impressed  by  the 
persistence  of  these  holy  visitants,  she  referred  the  matter 
to  a  priest  who  had  long  been  her  father  confessor,  and  at 
his  suggestion  she  decided  to  write  as  she  had  been  com- 
manded. For  some  months  she  busied  herself  with  this 
task,  and  then  one  day,  in  an  unlucky  moment,  she  ven- 
tured to  confide  her  plans  to  another  monk,  in  the  absence 
of  her  regular  spiritual  adviser.  This  time  her  plans  of 
literary  work  were  discouraged,  and  she  was  advised  to 
burn  her  manuscripts  as  worthless  paper  and  to  content 
herself  with  the  usual  routine  of  conventual  life.  Follow- 
ing this  advice,  she  destroyed  the  fruits  of  her  labor,  and 
prepared  to  resume  her  interrupted  duties,  when,  to  her 
consternation,  God  and  the  Virgin  again  appeared  in  her 
cell  at  night  and  again  commanded  her  to  write  as  before. 


364  WOMAN 

Again  she  resisted,  and  again  the  vision  came,  and  finally, 
encouraged  by  her  old  confessor,  who  had  returned  upon 
the  scene,  she  began  anew  the  once  abandoned  work. 
This  time  there  was  no  interruption;  the  book  was  finished, 
and  printed  first  in  Madrid,  and  then  at  Lisbon,  Perpignan, 
and  Antwerp.  Naturally,  the  claim  was  made  that  the 
book  was  written  under  divine  inspiration,  and  the  curious 
and  oftentimes  revolting  details  with  which  its  pages  were 
filled  were  soon  the  talk  and  scandal  of  the  religious  world. 
Maria,  in  spite  of  her  mysticism,  had  proved  to  be  a  real- 
ist of  the  most  pronounced  type,  and  in  many  quarters 
her  book  was  openly  denounced.  In  Paris,  the  great  court 
preacher  Bossuet  proclaimed  it  immoral;  and  the  Sor- 
bonne,  which  was  then  a  faculty  of  theologians,  condemned 
the  book  to  be  burned.  Although  the  facts  are  not  clearly 
known,  it  must  have  been  during  this  time  of  publicity 
that  the  nun  was  brought  to  the  attention  of  the  world- 
weary  king.  He  was  attracted  by  her  professed  visions, 
he  sought  for  consolation  of  a  spiritual  character  in  the 
midst  of  his  unhappy  career,  and  there  resulted  this  corre- 
spondence between  the  two,  which  has  since  been  pub- 
lished. To  quote  Hume,  it  was  "  the  nun  Maria  de  Agreda 
who,  alone  of  all  his  fellow-creatures,  could  sound  the 
misery  of  Philip's  soul  as  we  can  do  who  are  privileged  to 
read  the  secret  correspondence  between  them."  Pleasures 
of  all  sorts  were  beginning  to  pall  now  upon  the  jaded 
monarch.  Court  festivities  became  a  hollow  mockery,  the 
glitter  of  the  stage  had  vanished,  only  to  leave  its  queens 
all  daubed  with  paint  and  powder  in  the  garish  light  of 
reality,  and  the  broken-hearted  Philip,  bereft  of  wife  and 
heir,  was  induced  to  marry  for  a  second  time,  in  the  hope 
that  another  son  might  come  to  inherit  his  throne. 

Philip's   second  wife  was  his  niece  Mariana,  another 
Austrian  archduchess,  but  this  marriage  was  a  vain  hope 


THE  SLOW  DECAY  OF  SPANISH  POWER  365 

so  far  as  his  earthly  happiness  was  concerned.  The 
wished-for  son  was  born,  and  duly  christened  Charles,  but 
he  was  ever  a  weakling;  and  when  the  father  died  in  1665, 
preceding  Maria  de  Agreda  to  the  tomb  by  a  few  months 
only,  the  government  was  left  in  charge  of  Mariana  as 
regent,  and  all  Spain  was  soon  in  a  turmoil  as  the  result 
of  the  countless  intrigues  which  were  now  being  begun 
by  foreign  powers  who  hoped  to  dominate  the  peninsula. 
Mariana,  who  was  a  most  ardent  partisan,  began  to  scheme 
for  her  Austrian  house  as  soon  as  she  arrived  in  Spain, 
and  did  everything  in  her  power  to  counteract  the  French 
alliance  which  had  been  favored  by  Philip.  Upon  her 
husband's  death,  she  promptly  installed  her  German  con- 
fessor, Nithard,  as  inquisitor-general,  gave  him  a  place  in 
the  Council  of  State,  and  in  all  things  made  him  her  per- 
sonal representative.  Her  whole  course  of  action  was  so 
hostile  to  the  real  interests  of  Spain,  that  murmurs  of  dis- 
content were  soon  heard  among  the  people;  and  Don  Juan, 
the  illegitimate  son,  won  power  and  popularity  for  himself 
by  espousing  the  cause  of  the  nation.  The  weakling 
boy-king  Charles  was  a  degenerate  of  the  worst  type,  the 
result  of  a  long  series  of  intermarriages;  and  so  long  as 
Mariana  could  keep  him  within  her  own  control,  it  was 
difficult  to  question  her  authority  to  do  as  she  pleased. 
For  greater  protection  to  herself  and  to  her  own  interests, 
Mariana  had  installed  about  her  in  her  palace  a  strong 
guard  of  foreigners,  who  attended  her  when  she  went 
abroad  and  held  her  gates  against  all  unfriendly  visitors 
when  she  was  at  home.  But  the  opposition  grew,  and 
finally,  after  some  ill-timed  measures  of  Nithard,  there 
was  open  revolt,  and  Don  Juan  appeared  at  the  head  of  a 
body  of  troops  to  demand  in  the  name  of  outraged  Spain 
the  immediate  dismissal  of  the  queen's  favorite.  Mariana's 
confusion  at  this  juncture  of  affairs  has  been  quaintly 


366  WOMAN 

pictured  by  Archdeacon  Coxe,  who  wrote  an  interesting 
history  of  the  Bourbon  kings  of  Spain  in  the  early  part  of 
the  last  century:  "  In  the  agony  of  indignation  and  despair, 
the  queen  threw  herself  upon  the  ground  and  bewailed  her 
situation.  'Alas,  alas!'  she  cried;  'what  does  it  avail  me 
to  be  a  Queen  and  Regent,  if  I  am  deprived  of  this  good 
man  who  is  my  only  consolation?  The  meanest  individ- 
ual is  permitted  to  chuse  (sic)  a  confessor:  yet  I  am  the 
only  persecuted  person  in  the  kingdom!"  Tears  were 
unavailing,  however,  and  Nithard  had  to  leave  in  disgrace, 
although  Mariana  was  successful  in  opposing  Don  Juan's 
claim  to  a  share  in  the  government.  But  the  queen  could 
not  rule  alone,  and  the  new  favorite,  as  was  quite  usual  in 
such  cases,  owed  his  position  to  feminine  wiles.  Valen- 
zuela,  a  gentleman  of  Granada,  had  been  one  of  Nithard's 
trusted  agents,  and  courted  assiduously  Dofia  Eugenia,  one 
of  the  ladies  in  waiting  to  the  queen;  and  by  marrying  her 
he  had  brought  himself  to  Mariana's  notice,  and  had  so 
completely  gained  her  confidence,  that  she  naturally  looked 
to  him  for  support.  Either  the  queen's  virtue  was  a 
very  fragile  thing,  or  Valenzuela  was  considered  a  gallant 
most  irresistible;  for  in  his  first  two  interviews  with  Her 
Majesty,  his  wife,  Dofia  Eugenia,  was  present,  "to  avoid 
scandal."  It  is  probably  safe  to  say  that  as  Valenzuela 
rose  in  power  this  precaution  was  thrown  to  the  winds, 
and  on  more  than  one  occasion  "he  made  an  ostentatious 
display  of  his  high  favor,  affected  the  airs  of  a  successful 
lover,  as  well  as  of  a  prime  minister;  and  it  did  not  escape 
notice  that  his  usual  device  in  tournaments  was  an  eagle 
gazing  at  the  sun,  with  the  motto  Tengo  solo  licencia,  '  I 
alone  have  permission.'  " 

This  pride  had  its  fall,  however,  as  in  1677  the  boy-king 
Charles,  at  the  age  of  fifteen,  which  had  been  fixed  as  his 
majority,  was  made  to  see  that  his  mother  was  working 


THE   SLOW  DECAY  OF  SPANISH   POWER  367 

against  the  best  interests  of  his  subjects;  and  he  escaped 
from  the  honorable  captivity  in  which  he  had  been  held  at 
the  palace,  and  gave  himself  up  to  his  half-brother,  Don 
Juan,  who  was  only  too  ready  to  seize  this  advantage 
against  the  hostile  queen.  Mariana  was  imprisoned  in  a 
convent  in  Toledo,  Valenzuela  was  exiled  to  the  Philip- 
pines, and  Don  Juan,  as  prime  minister,  prepared  to  re- 
store public  confidence.  In  line  with  his  former  policy,  he 
made  a  clean  sweep  of  all  the  members  of  the  Austrian 
party,  and  then  began  to  prepare  the  way  for  a  French 
marriage,  to  strengthen  the  friendly  feeling  of  the  power- 
ful Louis  XIV.,  who  had  been  married  to  a  Spanish  wife. 
Scarcely  had  the  promise  for  this  marriage  between  Louis's 
niece  Marie  Louise  and  the  half-witted  Charles  been  made, 
when,  suddenly,  Don  Juan  sickened  and  died,  and  the 
queen-mother  Mariana  was  again  in  power.  There  were 
dark  hints  of  poison;  it  was  insinuated  that  Mariana  knew 
more  of  the  affair  than  she  would  be  willing  to  reveal;  but, 
whatever  the  facts,  there  was  no  proof,  and  there  was  no 
opportunity  for  accusations.  Meanwhile,  the  preparations 
for  the  royal  wedding  were  continued,  in  spite  of  the  fact 
that  it  was  feared  that  Mariana  might  try  to  break  the 
agreement.  But  this  wily  woman,  confident  in  her  own 
powers,  felt  sure  that  she  would  prove  more  than  a  match 
for  this  young  French  queen  who  was  coming  as  a  sacrifice 
to  enslave  Spain  to  France.  Marie  Louise  had  left  her 
home  under  protest,  strange  tales  of  this  idiot  prince  who 
was  to  be  her  husband  had  come  to  her  ears,  and  she 
could  only  look  forward  to  her  marriage  with  feelings  of 
loathing  and  disgust.  As  all  her  appeals  had  been  to  no 
avail,  she  discarded  prudence  from  her  category  of  virtues, 
and  entered  the  Spanish  capital  a  thoughtless,  reckless 
woman,  fully  determined  to  follow  her  own  inclinations, 
without  regard  to  the  consequences.  Her  beauty  made  an 


368  WOMAN 

immediate  impression  upon  the  feeble  mind  of  her  consort; 
but  she  spurned  his  advances,  made  a  jest  of  his  pathetic 
passion  for  her,  and  was  soon  deep  in  a  life  of  dissipation. 
Mariana,  as  the  older  woman,  might  have  checked  this 
impulsive  nature;  but  she  aided  rather  than  hindered  the 
downfall  of  the  little  queen,  looked  with  but  feigned  dis- 
approval upon  the  men  who  sought  her  facile  favors,  and, 
after  a  swift  decade,  saw  her  die,  without  a  murmur  of 
regret.  Again  there  were  whispers  of  poison,  but  Mariana 
was  still  in  power,  and  she  lost  no  time  in  planning  again 
for  Austrian  ascendency  and  an  Austrian  succession.  Once 
more  the  puppet  king  was  accepted  as  a  husband,  and  this 
time  by  the  Princess  Anne  of  Neuburg,  a  daughter  of  the 
elector-palatine,  and  sister  of  the  empress,  though,  in  jus- 
tice to  Anne,  it  should  be  said  that  she  was  an  unwilling 
bride  and  merely  came  as  Marie  Louise  had  done — a  sacri- 
fice to  political  ambition.  Victor  Hugo,  in  his  remarkable 
drama  Ruy  Bias,  gives  a  striking  picture  of  this  epoch 
in  Spanish  history,  and  shows  the  terrible  ennui  felt  by 
Anne  in  the  midst  of  the  rigid  etiquette  of  Madrid.  In  one 
of  the  scenes  in  this  play,  a  letter  is  brought  to  the  queen 
from  King  Charles,  who  is  now  spending  almost  all  his  time 
on  his  country  estates,  hunting;  and  after  the  epistle  has 
been  duly  opened  and  read  aloud  by  the  first  lady  in  wait- 
ing, it  is  found  to  contain  the  following  inspiring  words: 
"Madame,  the  wind  is  high,  and  I  have  killed  six  wolves"! 
The  new  queen,  however,  was  soon  interested  by  the 
indefatigable  Mariana  in  the  absorbing  game  of  politics 
which  she  had  been  playing  for  so  long  a  time  and  in 
which  she  was  such  an  adept;  and  before  many  months 
had  passed,  the  two  women  were  working  well  together 
for  the  interests  of  their  dear  Austria,  for  their  sympathies 
were  identical  and  there  was  nothing  to  prevent  harmo- 
nious action  between  them.  Anne  brought  in  her  train  an 


THE  SLOW  DECAY  OF  SPANISH  POWER  369 

energetic  woman,  Madame  Berlips,  who  was  her  favorite 
adviser,  and  for  a  time  these  three  feminine  minds  were 
the  controlling  forces  in  the  government.  France  was  not 
sleeping,  however;  skilful  diplomatic  agents  were  at  work 
under  the  general  supervision  of  the  crafty  Louis  Quatorze, 
and  the  matter  of  the  succession  was  for  a  long  time  in 
doubt.  Without  an  heir,  Charles  was  forced  to  nominate 
his  successor;  and  the  wording  of  his  will,  the  all-important 
document  in  the  case,  was  never  certain  until  death  came 
and  the  papers  were  given  an  official  reading.  Then  it 
was  discovered,  to  the  chagrin  of  the  zealous  Austrian  trio, 
that  they  had  been  outwitted,  and  that  the  grandson  of 
Louis,  young  Philip  of  Anjou,  had  won  the  much-sought 
prize.  With  the  coming  of  the  new  king,  the  women  of 
the  Austrian  party  and  all  their  followers  were  banished 
from  the  court,  and  a  new  era  began  for  Spain.  The 
French  policy  which  had  worked  such  wonders  in  the 
seventeenth  century  was  now  applied  to  this  foreign 
country,  numerous  abuses  were  corrected,  and  foremost 
in  the  new  regime  was  a  woman,  the  Princess  Orsini,  who 
was  soon  the  real  Queen  of  Spain  to  all  intents  and  pur- 
poses. Feminine  tact  and  diplomacy  had  long  been  held 
in  high  esteem  in  France;  Louis  had  been  for  many  years 
under  the  influence  of  the  grave  Madame  de  Maintenon; 
and  this  influence  had  been  so  salutary  in  every  way,  that 
the  aged  monarch  could  think  of  no  better  adviser  for  his 
youthful  grandson,  in  his  new  and  responsible  position, 
than  some  other  woman,  equally  gifted,  who  might  guide 
him  safely  through  the  political  shoals  which  were  threat- 
ening him  at  every  turn.  Madame  de  Maintenon  was 
called  upon  for  her  advice  in  this  crisis,  and  she  it  was 
who  suggested  the  Princess  Orsini  as  the  one  woman  in  all 
Europe  who  could  be  trusted  to  guide  the  young  Philip  V. 
It  is  interesting  to  note  that  there  was  never  question  for 


370  WOMAN 

a  moment  of  placing  a  man  in  this  post  of  confidence;  its 
dangers  and  responsibilities  were  acknowledged  as  too 
heavy  for  a  man  to  shoulder,  and  it  was  merely  a  question 
of  finding  the  proper  woman  for  the  emergency.  One 
other  woman  was  needed,  however,  in  Spain  at  this  time, 
and  that  was  a  wife  for  the  newly  crowned  king.  She 
was  to  provide  for  the  future,  while  the  Princess  Orsini 
was  to  take  care  of  the  present. 

A  political  marriage  was  planned,  as  might  have  been 
expected,  and  after  some  delay  the  fickle  Duke  of  Savoy, 
who  had  long  been  a  doubtful  friend  to  the  French,  was 
brought  to  terms,  and  his  daughter  Marie  Louise  was  prom- 
ised as  Philip's  bride.  The  ceremony  was  performed  at 
Turin,  where  the  king  was  represented  by  a  proxy,  the 
Marquis  of  Castel  Rodrigo,  and  the  royal  party  left  Genoa 
in  a  few  days,  in  gayly  adorned  galleys,  bound  for  the 
Spanish  coast.  Philip  hastened  to  meet  his  bride,  and  first 
saw  her  at  Figueras,  to  the  north  of  Barcelona.  There, 
on  October  3,  1701,  their  union  was  ratified,  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  "  patriarch  of  the  Indies,"  who  happened  to 
be  in  Spain  at  that  time.  All  was  not  clear  weather  in 
these  first  days  of  the  honeymoon,  for,  at  the  command  of 
the  French  king,  all  of  the  Piedmontese  attendants  of  the 
little  queen  had  been  dismissed,  as  it  was  feared  that  she 
might  bring  evil  counsellors  who  would  make  trouble  for 
the  new  government.  The  Princess  Orsini,  who  had 
joined  the  party  when  they  embarked  at  Genoa,  took 
charge  of  Marie  Louise  on  the  departure  of  her  friends, 
and  did  all  in  her  power  to  make  the  separation  easy  for 
her,  but  Marie  was  so  indignant  at  this  unexpected  turn  of 
affairs  that  she  was  in  high  dudgeon  for  several  days,  and 
during  this  time,  until  she  had  become  thoroughly  reconciled 
to  her  fate,  the  impatience  of  the  boy-king  was  restrained 
and  he  was  forced  to  consent  to  a  temporary  separation. 


THE   SLOW  DECAY  OF  SPANISH  POWER  371 

To  quote  from  Coxe's  description:  "Marie  Louise  had 
scarcely  entered  her  fourteenth  year,  and  appeared  still 
more  youthful  from  the  smallness  of  her  stature;  but  her 
spirit  and  understanding  partook  of  the  early  maturity 
of  her  native  climate,  and  to  exquisite  beauty  of  person 
and  countenance  she  united  the  most  captivating  manners 
and  graceful  deportment."  Even  after  her  attendants  had 
been  dismissed  and  the  Princess  Orsini  had  been  definitely 
installed  as  her  camerara-mayor,  or  head  lady  in  waiting, 
with  almost  unlimited  powers,  Louis  Quatorze  still  thought 
it  advisable  to  write  to  his  young  protege  and  give  him  some 
advice  relative  to  his  treatment  of  his  wife.  Among  his 
sententious  remarks,  the  following  are  of  special  interest: 
"  The  queen  is  the  first  of  your  subjects,  in  which  quality, 
as  well  as  in  that  of  your  wife,  she  is  bound  to  obey  you. 
You  are  bound  to  love  her,  but  you  will  never  love  her  as 
you  ought  if  her  tears  have  any  power  to  extort  from  you 
indulgences  derogatory  to  your  glory.  Be  firm,  then,  at 
first.  I  well  know  that  the  first  refusals  will  grieve  you, 
and  are  repugnant  to  your  natural  mildness;  but  fear  not 
to  give  a  slight  uneasiness,  to  spare  real  chagrin  in  the 
future.  By  such  conduct  alone  you  will  prevent  disputes 
which  would  become  insupportable.  Shall  your  domestic 
dissensions  be  the  subject  of  conversation  for  your  people 
and  for  all  Europe?  Render  the  queen  happy,  if  neces- 
sary, in  spite  of  herself.  Restrain  her  at  first;  she  will  be 
obliged  to  you  in  the  end;  and  this  violence  over  yourself 
will  furnish  the  most  solid  proof  of  your  affection  for 
her.  .  .  .  Believe  that  my  love  for  you  dictates  this 
advice,  which,  were  I  in  your  place,  I  should  receive  from 
a  father  as  the  most  convincing  proof  of  his  regard." 

The  Princess  Orsini,  or  Des  Ursins,  as  she  is  generally 
known,  was  a  most  remarkable  woman.  A  member  of 
the  old  French  family  of  La  Tremouille,  she  had  first 


372  WOMAN 

married  Adrian  Blaise  de  Talleyrand,  Prince  de  Chalais;  and 
on  her  husband's  banishment  as  the  result  of  an  unfortu- 
nate duel,  she  went  with  him  in  exile  to  Spain,  where  she 
spent  several  years  and  had  an  opportunity  to  become 
familiar  with  the  language  and  customs  of  the  country. 
Going  later  to  Italy,  where  her  husband  died,  she  was 
soon  married  a  second  time,  to  Flavio  de'  Orsini,  Duke  of 
Bracciano  and  Grandee  of  Spain,  and  for  several  years 
was  a  most  conspicuous  figure  in  the  court  circles  of  Rome 
and  Versailles,  becoming  the  intimate  friend  of  Madame 
de  Maintenon.  Thus  it  was  that  Madame  de  Maintenon 
spoke  of  her  in  connection  with  the  Spanish  position  as 
soon  as  the  matter  presented  itself.  The  Princess  Orsini 
was  nothing  loath  to  accept  this  position  when  it  was 
spoken  of,  and  she  wrote  to  the  Duchesse  de  Noailles  as 
follows  in  soliciting  her  influence  with  the  French  court: 
"My  intention  is  only  to  go  to  Madrid  and  remain  there 
as  long  as  the  king  chooses,  and  afterward  to  return  to 
Versailles  and  give  an  account  of  my  journey.  ...  I 
am  the  widow  of  a  grandee,  and  acquainted  with  the  Span- 
ish language;  I  am  beloved  and  esteemed  in  the  country;  I 
have  numerous  friends,  and  particularly  the  Cardinal  Pon- 
tocarrero;  with  these  advantages,  judge  whether  I  shall 
not  cause  both  rain  and  sunshine  at  Madrid,  and  whether 
I  shall  incur  the  imputation  of  vanity  in  offering  my  ser- 
vices." Saint-Simon,  who  knew  the  princess  well,  has 
written  in  his  Memoirs  the  following  description  of  her 
appearance  and  character,  and  it  is  so  lucid  in  its  state- 
ment and  such  an  admirable  specimen  of  pen  portraiture 
that  it  is  given  in  its  entirety: 

"  She  was  above  the  middle  size,  a  brunette  with  ex- 
pressive blue  eyes;  and  her  face,  though  without  preten- 
sion to  beauty,  was  uncommonly  interesting.  She  had  a 
fine  figure,  a  majestic  and  dignified  air,  rather  attractive 


THE  SLOW  DECAY  OF  SPANISH  POWER  373 

than  intimidating,  and  united  with  such  numberless  graces, 
even  in  trifles,  that  I  have  never  seen  her  equal  either 
in  person  or  mind.  Flattering,  engaging,  and  discreet, 
anxious  to  please  for  the  sake  of  pleasing,  and  irresistible 
when  she  wished  to  persuade  or  conciliate,  she  had  an 
agreeable  tone  of  voice  and  manner,  and  an  inexhaustible 
fund  of  conversation,  which  was  rendered  highly  enter- 
taining by  accounts  of  the  different  countries  she  had  vis- 
ited, and  anecdotes  of  the  distinguished  persons  whom  she 
had  known  and  frequented.  She  had  been  habituated  to 
the  best  company,  was  extremely  polite  and  affable  to  all, 
yet  peculiarly  engaging  with  those  whom  she  wished  to 
distinguish,  and  equally  skilful  in  displaying  her  own 
graces  and  qualifications.  She  was  adapted  by  nature  for 
the  meridian  of  courts,  and  versed  in  all  the  intrigues  of 
cabinets  from  her  long  residence  in  Rome,  where  she 
maintained  a  princely  establishment.  She  was  vain  of 
her  person  and  fond  of  admiration,  foibles  which  never 
left  her,  and  hence  her  dress  in  every  season  of  life  was 
too  youthful  for  her  age  and  sometimes  even  ridiculous. 
She  possessed  a  simple  and  natural  eloquence,  saying 
always  what  she  chose,  and  as  she  chose,  and  nothing 
more.  Secret  with  regard  to  herself;  faithful  to  the  con- 
fidence of  others;  gifted  with  an  exterior,  nay,  an  interior, 
of  gayety,  good  humor,  and  evenness  of  temper,  which 
rendered  her  perfectly  mistress  of  herself  at  all  times  and 
in  all  circumstances.  Never  did  any  woman  possess  more 
art  without  the  appearance  of  art;  never  was  a  more 
fertile  head,  or  superior  knowledge  of  the  human  heart, 
and  the  means  of  ruling  it.  She  was,  however,  proud 
and  haughty;  hurrying  forward  directly  to  her  ends,  with- 
out regard  to  the  means;  but  still,  if  possible,  clothing 
them  with  a  mild  and  plausible  exterior.  She  was  nothing 
by  halves;  jealous  and  imperious  in  her  attachments;  a 


374  WOMAN 

zealous  friend,  unchangeable  by  time  or  absence,  and 
a  most  implacable  and  inveterate  enemy.  Finally,  her 
love  of  existence  was  not  greater  than  her  love  of  power; 
but  her  ambition  was  of  that  towering  kind  which  women 
seldom  feel,  and  superior  even  to  the  ordinary  spirit  of 
man." 

Such  was  the  woman  who  was  to  give  tone  to  the  new 
administration  and  to  aid  the  young  king  and  queen  in  the 
difficult  tasks  which  were  before  them.  Philip  was  not  a 
decided  success,  except  as  a  soldier;  he  yielded  much  to 
his  wilful  wife,  and  the  Princess  Orsini  was  soon  accepted 
by  them  both  as  a  trustworthy  guide.  The  following  ex- 
tract from  a  letter  written  by  the  French  ambassador  to 
his  court  soon  after  her  installation  is  significant  in  her 
praise:  "  I  see  the  queen  will  infallibly  govern  her  husband, 
and  therefore  we  must  be  careful  that  she  governs  him 
well.  For  this  object  the  intervention  of  the  princess  is 
absolutely  necessary;  her  progress  is  considerable;  and  we 
have  no  other  means  to  influence  her  royal  mistress,  who 
begins  to  show  that  she  will  not  be  treated  as  a  child." 
During  the  fourteen  warlike  years  which  followed,  and 
which  resulted  in  the  complete  submission  of  all  the  Span- 
ish provinces  to  the  will  of  Philip  V.,  Marie  Louise  was 
devoted  to  her  husband's  cause,  and  developed  a  strong 
character  as  she  grew  older;  but  in  1714,  just  as  quiet 
had  come  and  the  country  under  the  new  administrative 
scheme  had  begun  to  win  back  some  of  its  former  thrift 
and  prosperity,  death  came  to  her  suddenly,  and  Philip 
was  left  alone  with  the  resourceful  Orsini,  who  rarely 
failed  in  her  undertakings.  So  complete  was  her  influence 
over  him,  that  Hume  says  she  "  ruled  Spain  unchecked  in 
his  name."  With  this  opportunity  before  her,  and  a  vic- 
tim to  her  strong  personal  ambition,  which  exulted  in  this 
exercise  of  power,  she  now  grew  jealous  of  her  position 


THE  SLOW  DECAY  OF  SPANISH  POWER  375 

and  feared  lest  a  new  marriage  might  depose  her.  Accord- 
ingly, she  arranged  matters  to  her  liking,  and  succeeded 
in  having  Philip  marry  Elizabeth  Farnese,  a  princess  of 
Parma,  who  had  been  described  to  her  as  a  meek  and 
humble  little  body  with  no  mind  or  will  of  her  own.  With 
a  queen  of  this  stamp  safely  stowed  away  in  the  palace, 
the  Princess  Orsini  saw  no  limit  to  her  autocratic  sway. 
This  time,  however,  the  clever  woman  of  state  had  been 
cruelly  deceived;  for  the  mild  Elizabeth  turned  out  to  be 
a  general  in  her  own  right,  who  promptly  dismissed  her 
would-be  patron  from  the  court  and  speedily  acquired  such 
domination  over  Philip  that  he  became  the  mere  creature 
of  her  will. 

This  Elizabeth  Farnese,  in  spite  of  her  quiet  life  at 
Parma,  soon  showed  herself  to  possess  a  capacity  for  gov- 
ernment which  no  one  could  have  suspected,  for  she  had 
studied  and  was  far  better  acquainted  with  history  and 
politics  than  the  majority  of  women,  spoke  several  lan- 
guages, and  had  an  intelligent  appreciation  of  the  fine  arts. 
Hume  calls  her  a  virago,  and,  although  this  is  a  harsh 
word,  her  first  encounter  with  the  Princess  Orsini  would 
seem  to  warrant  its  use.  The  princess,  by  virtue  of  her 
office  of  earner ara-may or ,  had  gone  ahead  of  the  king,  to 
meet  the  new  queen,  and  the  two  women  met  at  the  little 
village  of  Xadraca,  four  leagues  beyond  Guadalaxara.  The 
princess  knelt  and  kissed  the  hand  of  her  new  mistress,  and 
then  conducted  her  to  the  apartments  which  had  been  pre- 
pared for  her.  Coxe  describes  the  scene  as  follows:  "  The 
Princess  Orsini  began  to  express  the  usual  compliments  and 
to  hint  at  the  impatience  of  the  royal  bridegroom.  But  she 
was  thunderstruck  when  the  queen  interrupted  her  with 
bitter  reproaches  and  affected  to  consider  her  dress  and  de- 
portment as  equally  disrespectful.  A  mild  apology  served 
only  to  rouse  new  fury;  the  queen  haughtily  silenced  her 


376  WOMAN 

remonstrances,  and  exclaimed  to  the  guard :  '  Turn  out 
that  mad  woman  who  has  dared  to  insult  me.'  She  even 
assisted  in  pushing  her  out  of  the  apartment.  Then  she 
called  the  officer  in  waiting,  and  commanded  him  to  arrest 
the  princess  and  convey  her  to  the  frontier.  The  officer, 
hesitating  and  astonished,  represented  that  the  king  alone 
had  the  power  to  give  such  an  order.  '  Have  you  not,' 
she  indignantly  exclaimed,  'his  majesty's  order  to  obey 
me  without  reserve?'  On  his  reply  in  the  affirmative, 
she  impatiently  rejoined:  'Then  obey  me.'  As  he  still 
persisted  in  requiring  a  written  authority,  she  called  for  a 
pen  and  ink  and  wrote  the  order  on  her  knee." 

Whether  this  incident  as  related  be  true  or  not,  it  serves 
well  to  illustrate  the  imperious  nature  which  she  undoubt- 
edly possessed,  and  which  was  seen  so  many  times  in  the 
course  of  the  next  quarter  of  a  century.  Her  will  had  to 
be  obeyed,  and  nothing  could  turn  her  aside  from  her  pur- 
pose when  once  it  was  fixed.  But  she  was  as  artful  as 
she  was  stubborn,  and  ruled  most  of  the  time  without 
seeming  to  rule,  carefully  watching  all  of  her  husband's 
states  of  mind,  and  leading  him  gradually,  and  all  uncon- 
sciously, to  her  point  of  view  when  it  differed  from  her 
own.  Her  interests  were  largely  centred  in  her  attempts 
to  win  some  of  the  smaller  Italian  principalities  for  her 
sons,  she  was  continually  involved  in  the  European  wars 
of  her  time,  and  she  again  brought  Spain  into  a  critical 
financial  condition  by  her  costly  and  fruitless  warfare. 
Not  until  the  accession  of  her  stepson,  Charles  III.,  who 
came  to  the  throne  in  1759,  was  Spain  free  from  the 
machinations  of  this  designing  woman,  and,  in  all  that  time 
of  her  authority,  no  one  can  say  that  she  ruled  her  country 
wisely  or  well.  She  was  short-sighted  in  her  ambition, 
entirely  out  of  sympathy  with  the  Spanish  people,  and  did 
little  or  nothing  to  deserve  their  hearty  praise.  So  when 


THE  SLOW  DECAY  OF  SPANISH  POWER  377 

at  last  her  power  was  gone,  and  the  new  king  came  to  his 
own,  there  was  but  one  feeling  among  all  the  people,  and 
that  was  a  feeling  of  great  relief. 

For  the  rest  of  this  eighteenth  century  in  Spain  there  is 
no  predominating  woman's  influence  such  as  there  had 
been  for  so  many  years  before,  as  Amelia,  the  wife  of 
Charles  III.,  died  a  few  months  after  his  accession,  and 
for  the  rest  of  his  life  he  remained  unmarried  and  with  no 
feminine  influence  near  him.  The  morals  of  Spain  did  not 
improve  in  this  time,  however,  even  if  the  king  gave  an 
example  of  continence  which  no  other  monarch  for  many 
years  had  shown.  Charles  was  very  strict  in  such  matters, 
and  it  is  on  record  that  he  banished  the  Dukes  of  Arcos 
and  Osuna  because  of  their  open  and  shameless  amours 
with  certain  actresses  who  were  popular  in  Madrid  at  that 
time.  The  women  in  question  were  also  sternly  punished, 
and  the  whole  influence  of  Charles  was  thus  openly  thrown 
in  favor  of  the  decencies  of  life,  which  had  so  long  been 
neglected.  The  sum  total  of  his  efforts  was  nevertheless 
powerless  to  avail  much  against  the  inbred  corruption  of 
the  people,  for  their  none  too  stable  natures  were  being 
strongly  influenced  at  that  time  by  the  echo  of  French 
liberalism  which  was  now  sounding  across  the  Pyrenees, 
and  restraint  of  any  kind  was  becoming  more  and  more 
irksome  every  day.  Charles  IV.,  who  ascended  the  throne 
in  1788,  was  weak  and  timid  and  completely  in  the  power 
of  his  wife,  Marie  Louise  of  Parma,  a  wilful  woman  of 
little  character,  who  was  responsible  for  much  of  the 
humiliation  which  came  to  Spain  during  the  days  of 
Napoleon's  supremacy.  Charles  IV.,  realizing  his  own 
lack  of  ability  in  affairs  of  state,  had  decided  to  take  a 
prime  minister  from  the  ranks  of  the  people,  that  he  might 
be  wholly  dependent  upon  his  sovereign's  will;  and  his 
choice  fell  upon  a  certain  handsome  Manuel  Godoy,  a 


378  WOMAN 

member  of  the  bodyguard  of  the  king,  with  whom  the 
vapid  Marie  was  madly  in  love,  and  whom  she  had  recom- 
mended for  the  position.  The  king,  all  unsuspecting, 
followed  this  advice,  and  Godoy,  who  was  wholly  incom- 
petent, went  from  one  mistake  to  another,  to  the  utter 
detriment  of  Spanish  interests.  The  queen's  relations  with 
her  husband's  chief  of  state  were  well  known  to  all  save 
Charles  himself,  and,  on  one  occasion  at  least,  Napoleon, 
by  threatening  to  reveal  the  whole  shameful  story  to  the 
king,  bent  Godoy  to  his  will  and  forced  him  to  humiliating 
concessions.  The  queen  supported  him  blindly,  however, 
in  every  measure,  and  put  her  evil  pleasure  above  the 
national  welfare. 

It  must  not  be  assumed  that  in  this  period  of  national 
wreckage  that  all  was  bad,  that  all  the  women  were  cor- 
rupt and  all  the  men  were  without  principle,  for  there  was 
never  perhaps  such  a  condition  of  affairs  in  any  country; 
but  the  prevailing  and  long-continued  licentiousness  at  the 
court,  which  was  in  many  respects  a  counterpart  in  minia- 
ture of  the  wanton  ways  of  eighteenth-century  France, 
could  not  fail  in  the  end  to  react  in  a  most  disastrous  way 
upon  the  moral  nature  of  the  people.  There  were  still 
pious  mothers  and  daughters,  but  the  moral  standards  of 
the  time  were  so  deplorably  low  in  a  country  where  they 
had  never  been  of  the  highest,  from  a  strictly  puritan 
standpoint,  that  society  in  general  shows  little  of  that  high 
seriousness  so  essential  to  effective  morality. 


XX 

fflJBomen  of  jfftotrern 


XX 
THE  WOMEN  OF  MODERN   SPAIN 

SPAIN,  in  all  the  days  of  her  history,  has  been  conspic- 
uous among  all  other  continental  countries  for  the  number 
of  women  who  have  wielded  the  sovereign  power,  and  the 
reasons  for  this  fact  are  not  far  to  seek  perhaps.  In  both 
Germany  and  Italy  there  has  been  little  of  national  life  or 
government  in  the  broadest  sense  of  the  word  until  a  very 
recent  date,  the  custom  of  the  empire  has  given  male  rulers 
to  Austria,  the  illustrious  Catherine  of  Voltaire's  day  has 
been  the  one  woman  to  achieve  prominence  in  Russia,  and 
in  France  the  ancient  Salic  law  did  not  allow  women  to 
ascend  the  throne;  so  that,  all  in  all,  by  this  process  of 
exclusion,  it  is  easy  to  see  that  in  Spain  alone  the  condi- 
tions have  been  favorable  for  woman's  tenure  of  royal 
office.  A  scrutiny  of  the  list  of  Spanish  monarchs  reveals 
the  fact  that  in  all  the  long  line  there  are  no  names  more 
worthy  of  honor  than  those  of  Berenguela  and  Isabella 
the  Catholic,  and  that,  irrespective  of  sex,  Isabella  stands 
without  any  formidable  rival  as  the  ablest  and  most  effi- 
cient ruler  that  Spain  has  ever  had.  The  right  of  woman's 
accession  to  the  Spanish  throne  was  seriously  threatened, 
however,  early  in  the  eighteenth  century  with  the  advent 
of  the  French  Bourbons.  Young  Philip  V.,  acting  under 
French  influences  in  this  affair,  as  he  did  continually  in  all 
his  various  undertakings,  had  induced  the  Cortes  to  intro- 
duce the  French  Salic  principle;  and  for  the  greater  part 

381 


382  WOMAN 

of  the  century  this  law  was  allowed  to  stand,  although 
nothing  happened  to  test  it  severely.  By  way  of  comment 
on  this  circumstance,  it  is  interesting  to  note  that  this 
young  king,  Philip  V.,  who  had  been  instrumental  in  bar- 
ring women  from  the  succession,  was,  by  tacit  confession, 
unequal  to  his  own  task,  and  found  his  wisest  counsellor 
in  the  person  of  the  clever  Princess  Orsini.  Spanish  feel- 
ing and  Spanish  custom  in  regard  to  this  matter  were  so 
strong,  however,  that  Charles  IV.,  when  he  came  to  the 
throne  in  1789,  had  prevailed  upon  the  Cortes  to  abolish 
the  Salic  law  and  to  restore  the  old  Castilian  succession. 
While  this  was  done  secretly,  a  decree  to  this  effect  had 
never  been  issued,  and  legally  the  Salic  law  was  still  in 
force  when  Charles's  son,  Fernando  VII.,  approached  his 
last  days.  Fernando  had  been  unlucky  with  his  wives,  as 
the  first  three  proved  to  be  short-lived,  and  the  fourth, 
Maria  Cristina,  Princess  of  Naples,  presented  him  with 
two  daughters  and  no  sons. 

It  happened  that,  before  the  birth  of  these  daughters, 
Fernando  had  been  induced  by  his  wife  to  attack  the  Salic 
law  and  to  restore  the  Castilian  rule  of  succession,  and  in 
this  way  the  elder  princess,  who  was  to  become  Isabella  II., 
had  a  clear  claim  to  the  throne  from  the  time  of  her  birth. 
The  person  most  interested  in  opposing  this  action  was 
Don  Carlos,  brother  of  Fernando,  who  was  the  rightful 
heir  in  the  event  of  his  brother's  death  under  the  former 
procedure.  When  the  fact  became  known  that  Don  Carlos 
had  been  dispossessed  in  this  way  by  the  machinations  of 
Maria  Cristina,  he  and  his  followers  put  forth  every  effort 
to  induce  Fernando  to  undo  what  he  had  done;  but  all  to 
no  avail,  and  in  1833,  when  the  king  died,  Maria  became 
regent  during  the  minority  of  the  youthful  Isabella.  For 
the  next  seven  years  Spain  was  in  a  turmoil  as  the  result 
of  the  continual  revolts  which  were  raised  by  the  friends 


THE  WOMEN  OF  MODERN  SPAIN  383 

of  Don  Carlos,  and  Maria  for  a  time  had  much  trouble  in 
making  headway  against  them. 

The  political  game  she  was  playing  gave  her  strange  allies 
during  these  days,  for  she  was  naturally  in  favor  of  an 
autocratic  government,  after  the  manner  of  the  old  regime; 
but  as  Don  Carlos  had  rallied  to  his  standard  the  clerical 
and  conservative  parties  of  the  country,  Maria  was  forced, 
as  a  mere  matter  of  self-protection,  to  make  friendly  ad- 
vances to  the  growing  liberal  forces  in  society,  which  had 
been  brought  into  permanent  existence  by  the  success  of 
republicanism  in  France.  In  spite  of  this  nominal  espousal 
of  the  liberal  cause,  Maria  was  continually  trying  to  avoid 
popular  concessions  and  to  retain  unimpaired  the  despotic 
power  of  the  monarchy,  but  she  was  soon  forced  to  see 
that,  in  appearance  at  least,  she  must  pretend  to  advance 
the  popular  cause  and  give  her  subjects  more  extended 
privileges.  Accordingly,  she  issued  a  decree  in  1834  es- 
tablishing a  new  constitution  and  creating  a  legislature 
composed  of  two  chambers;  but  there  was  more  pretence 
than  reality  in  this  reform,  and  the  dissatisfaction  of  the 
liberals  increased  as  the  queen-regent's  real  purposes  be- 
came more  clearly  understood.  Fortunate  in  having  at  the 
head  of  her  armies  a  great  general,  Espartero,  Maria  finally 
succeeded  in  dispersing  and  exhausting  the  Carlist  armies; 
but  then  differences  arose  between  the  queen  and  Espar- 
tero over  the  rights  of  the  chartered  towns,  which  she 
was  endeavoring  to  abolish;  and  the  popular  sentiment  was 
so  in  favor  of  the  liberal  side  of  the  discussion,  that  a  revo- 
lution was  threatened  and  Isabella  was  forced  to  seek 
safety  in  flight.  For  three  years  the  general-statesman 
ruled,  until  the  majority  of  the  Princess  Isabella  was  de- 
clared in  1843,  and  in  that  same  year  Espartero  was  forced 
into  exile,  as  he  had  become  unpopular  on  account  of  his 
friendship  for  England.  With  this  change  in  governmental 


384  WOMAN 

affairs,  Maria  Cristina  was  allowed  to  return  to  Madrid, 
and  she  and  her  daughter,  the  new  queen,  Isabella  II., 
controlled  the  destinies  of  the  country.  A  husband  was 
found  for  Isabella  in  the  person  of  her  cousin,  Francis  of 
Assis,  but  he  was  a  sickly,  impotent  prince,  with  no  vigor 
of  mind  or  body,  and  the  married  life  of  this  young  couple 
was  anything  but  happy.  The  country  meanwhile  con- 
tinued in  a  state  of  unrest,  and  there  were  frequent  revo- 
lutionary outbreaks.  Isabella  was  no  less  unreliable  than 
her  mother  had  been,  and  her  capricious  manner  of 
changing  policy  and  changing  advisers  was  productive  of 
a  state  of  lawlessness  and  disorder  in  all  branches  of  the 
government  which  daily  became  more  shameful.  This 
shifting  policy  in  matters  of  state  was  equally  character- 
istic of  the  queen's  behavior  in  other  affairs.  Dissatisfied 
with  her  pitiful  husband,  she  soon  abandoned  her  dignity 
as  a  queen  and  as  a  woman,  in  a  most  brazen  way,  and  her 
private  life  was  so  scandalous  as  to  become  the  talk  of  all 
Europe.  But  the  court  was  kept  in  good  humor  by  the 
lavish  entertainments  which  were  given;  the  proverbial 
Spanish  sloth  and  indifference  allowed  all  this  to  run  un- 
checked, for  a  time  at  least;  and  the  sound  of  the  guitar  and 
the  song  of  the  peasant  were  still  heard  throughout  the  land. 
Some  idea  of  the  social  life  in  Madrid  at  this  time  can 
be  obtained  from  the  following  charming  description  of  an 
afternoon  ride  in  one  of  the  city  parks,  written  in  Septem- 
ber, 1853,  by  Madame  Calderon  de  la  Barca:  "  This  beauti- 
ful paseo,  called  Las  Delicias  de  Ysabel  Segunda,  had  been 
freshly  watered.  Numbers  of  pretty  girls  in  their  graceful 
ama^pnes  galloped  by  on  horseback,  with  their  attendant 
caballeros.  Few  actual  mantillas  were  to  be  seen.  They 
were  too  warm  for  this  season,  and  are  besides  confined 
to  morning  costume.  Their  place  was  supplied  either  by 
light  Parisian  bonnets  or  by  a  still  prettier  head-dress,  a 


THE  WOMEN  OF  MODERN  SPAIN  385 

veil  of  black  lace  or  tulle  thrown  over  the  head,  fastened 
by  gold  pins,  and  generally  thrown  very  far  back,  the 
magnificent  hair  beautifully  dressed.  Certainly  this  ap- 
peared to  me  the  prettiest  head-dress  in  the  world,  show- 
ing to  the  greatest  advantage  the  splendid  eyes,  fine  hair, 
and  expressive  features  of  the  wearers.  I  was  astonished 

at  the  richness  of  the  toilettes,  and  M assured  me  that 

luxury  in  dress  is  now  carried  here  to  an  extraordinary 
height;  and  to  show  you  that  I  am  not  so  blinded  by 
admiration  for  what  is  Spanish  as  not  to  see  faults,  at  least 
when  they  are  pointed  out  to  me,  1  will  allow  that  French 
women  have  a  better  idea  of  the  fitness  of  things,  and  that 
there  is  an  absence  of  simplicity  in  the  dress  of  the  Span- 
ish women  which  is  out  of  taste.  I  allude  chiefly  to  those 
who  were  on  foot.  The  rich  silks  and  brocades  which 
trail  along  the  Prado,  hiding  pertinaciously  the  exquisitely 
small  feet  of  the  wearers,  would  be  confined  in  Paris  to 
the  elegantes  who  promenade  the  Bois  de  Boulogne  or  the 
Champs-Elysees  in  carriages.  Here  the  wife  and  the 
daughter  of  the  poorest  shopkeeper  disdain  chintz  and  cal- 
ico; nothing  short  of  silk  or  velvet  is  considered  decorous 
except  within  doors.  But,  having  made  this  confession,  I 
must  add  that  the  general  effect  is  charming,  and  as  for 
beauty,  both  of  face  and  figure,  especially  the  latter,  surely 
no  city  in  the  world  can  show  such  an  amount  of  it." 

In  spite  of  the  general  tone  of  gayety  which  was  per- 
vading Madrid  in  these  days  of  the  early  fifties,  many  of 
the  members  of  the  older  nobility,  conservative  to  the 
core,  were  holding  somewhat  aloof  from  the  general  social 
life  of  the  time.  Society  had  become  too  promiscuous  for 
their  exclusive  tastes,  and  they  were  unwilling  to  open  their 
drawing  rooms  to  the  cosmopolitan  multitude  then  throng- 
ing the  capital.  Details  of  this  aristocratic  life  are  natu- 
rally somewhat  difficult  to  obtain,  but  this  same  sprightly 


386  WOMAN 

Madame  Calderon  de  la  Barca,  through  her  connection 
with  the  diplomatic  corps  at  Madrid,  was  able  to  enter  this 
circle  in  several  instances,  and  her  chatty  account  of  a  ball 
given  by  the  Countess  Montijo,  one  of  the  leaders  in  this 
exclusive  set,  if  not  one  of  its  most  exclusive  members,  is 
not  lacking  in  interest:  "A  beautiful  ball  was  given  the 
other  night  at  the  Countess  Montijo's.  She  certainly  pos- 
sesses the  social  talent  more  than  any  one  I  ever  met  with, 
and,  without  the  least  apparent  effort,  seems  to  have  a 
kind  of  omnipresence  in  her  salons,  so  that  each  one  of 
her  guests  receives  a  due  share  of  attention.  The  princi- 
pal drawing  room,  all  white  and  gold,  is  a  noble  room. 
The  toilettes  were  more  than  usually  elegant,  the  jewels 
universal.  The  finest  diamonds  were  perhaps  those  of 
the  Countess  of  Toreno,  wife  of  the  celebrated  minister. 
The  Countess  of  Ternan-Nufiez  and  the  Princess  Pio  (an 
Italian  lady),  wore  tiaras  of  emeralds  and  brilliants  of  a 
size  and  beauty  that  I  have  never  seen  surpassed.  The 
Duchess  of  Alva  was,  as  usual,  dressed  in  perfect  taste, 
but,  alas!  I  am  not  able  to  describe.  It  was  something 
white  and  vapory  and  covered  with  flowers,  with  a  few 
diamond  pins  fastening  the  flowers  in  her  hair.  I  observed 
that  whenever  a  young  girl  was  without  a  partner,  there 
was  the  hostess  introducing  one  to  her,  or  if  any  awkward- 
looking  youth  stood  neglected  in  a  corner,  she  took  his 
arm,  brought  him  forward,  presented  him  to  some  one, 
and  made  him  dance.  Or  if  some  scientific  man,  invited 
for  his  merits, — for  her  parties  are  much  less  carefully 
winnowed  than  those  of  the  aristocracy  in  general, — stood 
with  his  spectacles  on,  looking  a  little  like  a  fish  out  of 
water,  there  was  the  countess  beside  him,  making  him 
take  her  to  the  buffet,  conversing  with  him  as  she  does 
well  upon  every  subject,  and  putting  him  so  much  at  his 
ease  that  in  a  few  minutes  he  evidently  felt  quite  at 


THE  WOMEN  OF  MODERN  SPAIN  387 

home."  Such  a  description  as  this  must  inevitably  lead 
to  the  reflection  that  charming  as  the  Countess  Montijo 
may  have  been,  she  was  in  no  way  peculiar  or  remarkable 
except  in  so  far  as  she  represented  the  highest  type  of  a 
polished,  tactful  Spanish  hostess,  for  in  every  civilized 
modern  country  there  are  women  of  this  class  who  excite 
general  admiration. 

The  wavering  policy  of  the  capricious  Isabella  was  some- 
what strengthened  in  1856,  when  the  long-suffering  people, 
unable  to  countenance  for  a  longer  time  the  universal  cor- 
ruption which  existed  in  all  branches  of  the  government, 
rose  in  such  threatening  revolt,  under  the  leadership  of 
O'Donnell,  that  the  queen  was  forced  to  give  heed.  The 
revolt  counted  among  its  supporters  members  of  all  polit- 
ical parties,  who  were  now  banded  together  from  motives 
which  were  largely  patriotic,  and  so  great  was  their  influ- 
ence that  Isabella  was  forced  to  accept  their  terms  or  lose 
her  crown.  For  a  few  years  there  was  an  increased  pros- 
perity for  Spain,  but  the  improvement  could  not  be  of  long 
duration,  so  long  as  the  government  remained  under  the 
same  inefficient  leadership.  Finally,  the  end  came  in  1868, 
when  there  broke  forth  a  general  revolution  which  was 
but  the  forcible  expression  of  the  real  and  genuine  spirit 
of  discontent  which  was  to  be  found  among  all  classes  of 
the  people.  The  navy  rebelled  at  Cadiz,  and  the  fleet 
declared  for  the  revolution,  and  then,  to  take  away  Isa- 
bella's last  hope  of  support,  certain  popular  generals,  who 
had  been  sent  into  exile,  returned,  and  led  the  royal  troops 
against  the  hated  sovereign.  In  the  face  of  this  over- 
whelming array  of  hostile  forces,  the  queen  crossed  the 
Pyrenees  as  a  fugitive,  and  when  she  went  she  left  her 
crown  behind  her.  After  five  years  of  upheaval,  which 
descended  at  times  to  complete  anarchy,  with  the  advan- 
tage resting  now  with  the  conservatives  and  now  with  the 


388  WOMAN 

liberals,  the  crown  was  finally  offered  to  the  son  of  the 
dethroned  queen,  who,  as  Alfonso  XII.,  began  his  reign 
under  most  auspicious  circumstances.  With  his  unlooked- 
for  death  in  1886,  his  wife  and  widow,  Maria  Cristina, 
was  left  as  the  regent  for  her  unborn  son,  who  has  so 
recently  attained  his  majority.  This  Maria  was  a  most 
careful  mother,  who  devoted  herself  with  the  utmost  fidel- 
ity to  the  education  of  her  son;  and  her  conception  of  this 
duty  was  so  high  and  serious  that  she  practically  put  a 
stop  to  the  social  life  of  the  court,  that  she  might  give 
herself  unreservedly  to  her  important  task.  With  what 
success,  the  future  alone  can  tell,  but,  in  the  meanwhile, 
there  is  but  one  opinion  as  to  her  personal  worth  and 
character. 

Without  venturing  a  prediction  as  to  the  probable  future 
for  Spain  in  the  history  of  the  world,  the  fact  remains  that 
in  recent  years  the  country  has  advanced  greatly  from 
many  points  of  view,  so  far  as  its  domestic  affairs  are  con- 
cerned. There  has  been  a  remarkable  commercial  activity, 
railroads  have  opened  up  much  of  the  country  which  had 
been  cut  off  from  the  main  currents  of  life  from  time  im- 
memorial, and  the  widespread  use  of  electricity  for  lighting 
and  for  motive  power  is  perhaps  unexcelled  in  any  other 
European  country.  The  greatest  question  now  confront- 
ing Spain  is,  in  the  opinion  of  many,  the  question  of  popu- 
lar education,  and  here  there  is  continual  advancement. 
As  might  be  expected  in  a  country  like  Spain,  where 
southern,  and  in  some  cases  semi-Oriental,  ideas  must  of 
necessity  exist  with  regard  to  women,  their  education  has 
not  yet  made  great  progress,  although  the  question  is  being 
considered  in  a  most  liberal  and  enlightened  spirit.  No 
movement  in  this  day  and  generation  can  be  successfully 
brought  to  an  issue  unless  it  can  be  shown  that  there  is 
some  general  demand  for  the  measures  proposed,  and 


THE  WOMEN  OF  MODERN  SPAIN  389 

until  very  recently  in  Spain  there  was  general  apathy 
with  regard  to  the  education  of  women.  For  many  years 
girls  have  been  carefully  instructed  in  two  things,  religion 
and  domestic  science,  and  for  neither  of  these  things  was 
any  extended  course  of  study  necessary.  The  parochial 
schools,  with  all  their  narrowness,  prepared  the  maiden 
for  her  first  communion,  and  her  mother  gave  her  such 
training  in  the  arts  of  the  housewife  as  she  might  need 
when  she  married  and  had  a  home  of  her  own  to  care  for. 
These  two  things  accomplished,  the  average  middle-class 
Spaniard,  until  a  very  recent  day,  was  utterly  unable  to 
see  that  there  was  anything  more  necessary,  or  that  the 
system  was  defective  in  any  way.  But  the  modern  spirit 
has  entered  the  country,  and  an  organized  effort  is  now 
being  made  to  show  the  advantages  of  a  higher  educa- 
tion and  to  furnish  the  opportunity  for  obtaining  it.  In 
this  work  of  educational  reform  among  Spanish  women,  an 
American,  Mrs.  Gulick,  the  wife  of  an  American  missionary 
at  San  Sebastian,  has  played  a  leading  part.  Organizing 
a  school  which  was  maintained  under  her  supervision,  she 
has  been  quite  successful  in  what  she  has  accomplished, 
and  believes  that  she  has  "  proved  the  intellectual  ability 
of  Spanish  girls."  Her  pupils  have  been  received  in  the 
National  Institute,  where  they  have  given  a  good  account 
of  themselves;  and  a  few  of  them  have  even  been  ad- 
mitted to  the  examinations  of  the  University  of  Madrid, 
where  they  have  maintained  a  high  rank.  Mrs.  Gulick  is 
not  the  only  leading  exponent  of  higher  education  for 
Spanish  women,  however,  as  the  whole  movement  is  now 
practically  under  the  moral  leadership  of  a  most  competent 
and  earnest  woman,  Emilia  Pardo  Bazan,  who  understands 
the  wants  of  her  fellow  countrywomen  and  is  striving  in 
every  legitimate  way  to  give  them  the  sort  of  instruction 
they  need.  Free  schools  exist  in  all  the  cities  and  towns 


3QO  WOMAN 

for  both  boys  and  girls,  and  recent  attempts  have  been 
made  to  enact  a  compulsory  education  law.  Numerous 
normal  schools  have  been  established  in  the  various  cities, 
which  are  open  to  both  men  and  women,  and  the  number 
of  women  teachers  is  rapidly  increasing.  Secular  educa- 
tion is  far  more  advanced  and  far  more  in  keeping  with 
the  spirit  of  the  times  than  is  the  instruction  which  is  to  be 
found  in  the  schools  conducted  by  the  teaching  orders. 
The  girls  in  the  convents  are  taught  to  adore  the  Virgin  in 
a  very  abstract  and  indefinite  way,  and  are  given  very 
little  practical  advice  as  to  the  essential  traits  of  true 
womanhood.  A  remarkable  article,  written  recently  in 
one  of  the  Madrid  papers  by  one  who  signed  himself  "A 
Priest  of  the  Spanish  Catholic  Church,"  says,  apropos  of 
this  very  question:  "Instead  of  the  Virgin  being  held  up 
to  admiration  as  the  Mother  of  Our  Lord  and  as  an  exam- 
ple of  all  feminine  perfection,  the  ideal  woman  and  mother, 
the  people  are  called  upon  to  worship  the  idea  of  the 
Immaculate  Conception,  an  abstract  dogma  of  recent  in- 
vention. .  .  ."  This  Madonna  worship  is  one  of  the 
characteristic  things  in  the  religious  life  of  Spain,  and 
everywhere  La  Virgen,  who  is  rarely  if  ever  called  Santa 
Maria,  is  an  object  of  great  love  and  reverence.  There 
are  many  of  these  Virgenes  scattered  throughout  the  coun- 
try, and  each  is  reverenced.  Many  of  them  are  supposed 
to  work  miracles  or  answer  prayers,  and  their  chapels  are 
filled  with  the  votive  offerings  of  those  who  have  been 
helped  in  time  of  trouble.  Not  the  least  pathetic  among 
these  offerings  are  the  long  locks  of  hair  tied  with  ribbons 
of  many  colors,  which  have  been  contributed  by  some 
mother  because  her  child  has  been  restored  from  sickness 
to  health.  Women  are  more  devout  than  the  men  in  their 
observance  of  religious  duties,  although  the  whole  popula- 
tion is  religious  to  an  unusual  degree  so  far  as  the  outward 


THE  WOMEN  OF  MODERN  SPAIN  391 

forms  are  concerned,  but  the  real  religion  which  aims  at 
character  building  is  little  known  as  yet. 

With  regard  to  the  general  position  of  women  in  Spain, 
and  their  influence  upon  public  life,  which  as  yet  is 
not  of  any  considerable  moment,  Madame  L.  Higgin,  in 
her  recent  volume  upon  Spanish  life,  writes  as  follows: 
"  As  a  rule,  they  take  no  leading  part  in  politics,  devoting 
themselves  chiefly  to  charitable  works.  There  is  a  gen- 
eral movement  for  higher  education  and  greater  liberty  of 
thought  and  action  among  women,  and  there  are  a  cer- 
tain limited  number  who  frankly  range  themselves  on  the 
side  of  so-called  emancipation,  who  attend  socialistic  and 
other  meetings,  and  who  aspire  to  be  the  comrades  of 
men  rather  than  their  objects  of  worship  or  their  play- 
things. But  this  movement  is  scarcely  more  than  in  its 
infancy.  It  must  be  remembered  that  even  within  the 
present  generation  the  bedrooms  allotted  to  girls  were 
always  approached  through  those  of  their  parents,  that  no 
girl  or  unmarried  woman  could  go  unattended,  and  that  to 
be  left  alone  in  a  room  with  a  man  was  to  lose  her  reputa- 
tion. Already  these  things  seem  dreams  of  the  past;  nor 
could  one  well  believe,  what  is,  however,  a  fact,  that 
there  were  fathers  of  the  upper  classes  in  the  first  half  of 
the  last  century  who  preferred  that  their  daughters  should 
not  learn  to  read  or  write,  and  especially  the  latter,  as  it 
only  enabled  them  to  read  letters  clandestinely  received 
from  lovers  and  to  reply  to  them.  The  natural  conse- 
quence of  this  was  the  custom,  which  so  largely  prevailed, 
of  young  men,  absolutely  unknown  to  the  parents,  estab- 
lishing correspondence  or  meetings  with  the  objects  of 
their  adoration  by  means  of  a  complacent  doncella  with 
an  open  palm,  or  the  pastime  known  as  pelando  el  pavo 
(literally,  "plucking  the  turkey"),  which  consisted  of 
serenades  of  love  songs,  amorous  dialogues,  or  the  passage 


392  WOMAN 

of  notes  through  the  reja — the  iron  gratings  which  protect 
the  lower  windows  of  Spanish  houses  from  the  prowling 
human  wolf — or  from  the  balconies.  Many  a  time  have 
1  seen  these  interesting  little  missives  let  down  past  my 
balcony  to  the  waiting  gallant  below,  and  his  drawn  up. 
Only  once  I  saw  a  neighbor,  in  the  balcony  below,  inter- 
cept the  post  and,  I  believe,  substitute  some  other  letter." 
This  seclusion  of  the  young  girls  is  in  itself  a  sufficient 
comment  upon  the  sentiments  of  honor  and  duty  which 
are  current  among  the  male  portion  of  the  population,  and 
it  is  plain  that  this  condition  of  affairs  can  find  little  better- 
ment until  the  nation  finds  new  social  ideals.  Such  condi- 
tions as  these  are  mediaeval,  or  Oriental  at  best,  and  it  is 
to  be  hoped  that  the  newer  education  which  is  now  influ- 
encing Spain  may  help  to  bring  about  a  better  and  saner 
view  of  the  social  intercourse  of  men  and  women.  As  a 
direct  result  of  the  general  attitude,  the  men  upon  the 
streets  of  a  Spanish  city  will  often  surprise  a  foreigner  by 
their  cool  insolence  in  the  presence  of  the  women  they 
may  happen  to  meet.  Her  appearance  is  made  the  sub- 
ject for  much  audible  comment,  and  such  exclamations  as 
Ay!  que  buenos  ojos!  Que  bonita  eres!  [Oh!  what  fine 
eyes!  How  pretty  you  are!]  are  only  too  common. 
The  woman  thus  characterized  will  modify  her  conduct 
according  to  the  necessities  of  the  situation;  and  if  her 
casual  admirer  happens  to  be  young  and  good-looking  and 
she  herself  is  not  averse  to  flattery,  she  will  reward  him 
with  a  quick  smile.  In  any  case,  the  whole  matter  is 
treated  as  an  ordinary  occurrence,  as  it  is,  and  no  insult 
is  felt  where  none  is  intended.  Such  remarks  are  but  an 
expression,  which  is  oftentimes  naive,  of  the  admiration 
which  is  felt  at  the  sight  of  unusual  feminine  charms. 
The  incident  simply  goes  to  show  that  everywhere  in 
Spain  there  is  tacit  recognition  of  the  general  inferiority 


THE  WOMEN  OF  MODERN  SPAIN  393 

of  women.  In  the  laboring  and  peasant  classes,  where 
the  women  work  with  the  men,  such  lapses  from  the  con- 
ventional standard  of  good  manners  would  not  cause  so 
much  comment;  but  under  these  circumstances  the  dan- 
gers and  the  annoyances  are  not  so  great,  as  these  women 
of  the  people,  with  their  practical  experience  in  life,  igno- 
rant as  they  may  be,  are  often  more  competent  to  take 
care  of  themselves  than  are  their  more  carefully  educated 
sisters  in  polite  society  who  have  been  so  carefully  fenced 
from  harm. 

Many  of  the  objectionable  features  of  Spanish  life  which 
spring  from  these  long-standing  notions  in  regard  to  women 
are  bound  to  disappear  as  both  men  and  women  become 
more  educated,  and  in  several  particulars  already  encourag- 
ing progress  has  been  made.  Marriage  laws  and  customs 
may  always  be  considered  as  telling  bits  of  evidence  in  the 
discussion  of  any  question  of  this  nature,  and  in  Spain,  as 
the  result  of  modern  innovations,  the  rights  of  the  woman 
in  contracting  the  marriage  relation  are  superior  to  those 
enjoyed  elsewhere  on  the  continent  or  even  in  England. 
In  the  old  days,  the  manage  de  convenance  was  a  matter 
of  course  in  educated  circles,  and  the  parents  and  relatives 
of  a  girl  were  given  an  almost  absolute  power  in  arranging 
for  her  future  welfare.  Now,  as  the  result  of  an  enlight- 
ened public  sentiment,  which  is  somewhat  unexpected  in 
that  it  is  in  advance  of  many  other  social  customs,  there 
is  a  law  which  gives  a  girl  the  right  to  marry  the  man  of 
her  choice,  even  against  her  parents'  wishes.  No  father 
can  compel  his  daughter  to  marry  against  her  will;  and  if 
there  is  any  attempt  to  force  her  in  the  matter,  she  is 
entitled  to  claim  the  protection  of  a  magistrate,  who  is  em- 
powered by  law  to  protect  her  from  such  oppression.  If 
the  parents  are  insistent,  the  magistrate  may  take  the  girl 
from  her  father's  house  and  act  as  her  guardian  until  the 


394  WOMAN 

time  of  her  majority,  when  she  is  free  to  marry  according 
to  her  own  fancy.  Nor  is  any  such  rebellious  action  to 
be  construed  as  prejudicial  to  the  daughter's  right  to  in- 
herit that  portion  of  her  father's  estate  to  which  she  would 
otherwise  have  a  legal  claim.  Madame  Higgin  relates  the 
following  cases  which  came  within  the  range  of  her  per- 
sonal experience:  "  In  one  case,  the  first  intimation  a  father 
received  of  his  daughter's  engagement  was  the  notice  from 
a  neighboring  magistrate  that  she  was  about  to  be  married; 
and  in  another,  a  daughter  left  her  mother's  house  and 
was  married  from  that  of  the  magistrate,  to  a  man  without 
any  income  and  considerably  below  her  in  rank.  In  all 
these  cases  the  contracting  parties  were  of  the  highest 
rank." 

With  regard  to  the  wedding  service,  customs  have 
changed  greatly  during  the  course  of  the  last  century.  It 
was  natural  that  Spain,  in  common  with  all  other  Catholic 
countries,  should  have  given  the  Church  entire  control  of 
the  marriage  sacrament  for  many  years,  and  it  was  not 
until  the  republicanism  of  the  nineteenth  century  forced 
a  change  that  the  civil  marriage  was  instituted  as  it  had 
been  in  France.  While  not  compulsory,  the  religious  ser- 
vice is  almost  always  performed,  in  addition  to  the  other, 
except  among  the  poor,  who  are  deterred  by  the  cost  of  this 
double  wedding;  and  sometimes  the  religious  service  is  held 
at  the  church  and  sometimes  at  the  home  of  the  bride.  It 
was  generally  the  custom  in  the  church  weddings  for  all  the 
ladies  in  the  wedding  party,  including  the  bride,  to  dress  in 
black;  but  there  was  finally  so  much  opposition  to  this 
sombre  hue  at  such  a  joyous  occasion,  that  the  fashionable 
world  within  recent  times  has  made  the  house  wedding  a 
possibility,  and  at  such  a  function  there  was  no  limit  to  the 
brilliant  display  possible.  The  English  and  American  cus- 
tom of  taking  a  wedding  journey  immediately  after  the 


THE  WOMEN  OF  MODERN  SPAIN  395 

ceremony  is  not  common  in  Spain,  and  the  Spaniards,  in 
their  conversation  and  sometimes  in  their  books,  are  not 
slow  to  express  their  opinions  with  regard  to  the  matter, 
insisting  that  it  is  much  preferable  to  remain  at  home 
among  friends  than  to  "  expose  themselves  to  the  jeers  of 
postilions  and  stable  boys,"  to  quote  a  line  from  Fernan 
Caballero's  dementia.  In  spite  of  this  firmly  rooted  opin- 
ion, however,  that  the  national  customs  are  best,  and  in 
this  particular  it  seems  indeed  as  if  they  were  more  rea- 
sonable, the  wedding  journey  is  slowly  being  adopted  in 
what  they  call  "el  high  life,"  and  it  may  some  day  be- 
come one  of  the  fixed  institutions  of  the  land,  as  it  is  with 
us.  All  this  is  but  another  proof  of  the  fact  that  fashions 
are  now  cosmopolitan  things,  and  that  among  the  educated 
and  wealthy  classes  in  all  countries  there  are  often  many 
more  points  of  resemblance  than  are  to  be  found  between 
any  given  group  of  these  cosmopolites  and  some  of  their 
own  fellow  countrymen  taken  from  a  lower  class  in  society. 
Some  time  after  the  Prince  of  Naples,  who  is  now  the 
King  of  Italy,  had  attracted  the  favorable  comment  of  all 
thinking  people  for  his  determination  not  to  wed  until  he 
married  for  love,  a  similar  occurrence  in  Spain  revealed 
the  fact  that  Maria  Cristina,  the  queen-regent,  was  deter- 
mined to  accept  the  modern  and  sensible  notion  of  mar- 
riage for  one  of  her  own  children,  and  thus  incidentally  to 
give  to  her  people  in  general  the  benefit  of  a  powerful 
precedent  in  such  matters.  Mention  has  already  been 
made  of  the  fact  that,  according  to  certain  laws,  a  Spanish 
girl  may  now  refuse  to  marry  at  her  parents'  dictation; 
but,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  such  laws  exist,  it  cannot  be 
said  that  they  are  often  called  into  play,  for  the  daughter 
is  still  in  such  a  state  of  childish  dependence  upon  her 
father  and  mother,  that  any  such  step  as  described,  which 
amounts  to  nothing  more  or  less  than  a  revolt  against 


30  WOMAN 

parental  authority,  would  fill  her  with  dismay  and  would 
prove  more  than  she  would  dare  to  attempt.  The  laws 
upon  the  statute  books  indicate  that  there  is  a  public  ap- 
preciation of  the  fact  that  marriage  should  not  be  a  matter 
of  coercion,  but  among  the  people  in  general  the  old  idea  is 
still  more  powerful,  and  Spanish  daughters  are  married  daily 
to  the  husbands  chosen  by  their  match-making  mothers 
or  aunts.  In  the  face  of  this  popular  custom,  and  in  spite 
of  the  fact  that  royal  marriages,  on  account  of  their  some- 
what political  character,  have  generally  been  made  without 
regard  to  sentiment,  the  queen-regent  decided  that  her 
oldest  daughter,  the  Princess  of  Asturias,  should  marry 
the  man  she  loved.  There  were  various  worldly,  or  rather 
political,  reasons  against  the  proposed  alliance;  but  Maria 
brushed  them  all  aside  and  allowed  the  whole  affair  to 
progress  in  a  natural  way,  as  there  seemed  to  be  nothing 
in  the  proposed  alliance  which  gave  her  cause  for  alarm. 
Here  are  the  facts  in  the  case.  Among  the  playfellows 
of  the  little  King  Alfonso  XIII.  there  were  two  distant 
cousins,  the  sons  of  the  Count  of  Caserta,  and  between 
the  elder,  Don  Carlos,  and  the  young  princess  a  warm 
attachment  soon  sprang  up  which  led  to  a  betrothal,  with 
the  queen's  consent.  At  once  there  was  a  protest  which 
would  have  intimidated  a  person  of  weaker  character.  It 
was  pointed  out  that  Don  Carlos  the  youth  was  the  son  of 
a  man  who  had  been  chief  of  staff  to  the  Pretender  Don 
Carlos,  who  had  been  responsible  for  so  much  of  the  dis- 
order in  Spain  within  the  last  quarter  of  a  century;  and 
although  Caserta  and  his  sons  had  taken  the  oath  of  alle- 
giance to  Alfonso  XIII.,  it  was  feared  that  in  some  way 
this  marriage  might  give  the  Pretender  a  new  claim  upon 
the  government,  and  that  in  future  years  it  might  lead  to 
renewed  domestic  strife.  Furthermore,  it  was  alleged  that 
the  Jesuits,  who  are  known  conservatives  and  legitimists 


THE  WOMEN  OF  MODERN   SPAIN  397 

everywhere,  and  who  had  been  accused  of  sympathizing 
with  the  Pretender's  claims,  were  behind  this  new  alliance, 
and,  as  the  work  of  their  hands,  it  was  popularly  consid- 
ered as  a  matter  of  very  doubtful  expediency.  But  the 
queen  persisted  in  her  course,  entirely  without  political 
motives,  so  far  as  anyone  has  been  able  to  discover,  and 
preparations  for  the  wedding  were  begun  in  earnest. 

Then  it  was  that  the  affair  began  to  assume  a  more 
national  and  more  serious  character.  The  liberal  party, 
which  was  in  power  and  which  naturally  looked  with  sus- 
picion upon  anything  tainted  with  conservatism,  decided 
to  oppose  the  marriage,  and  the  prime  minister,  who  was 
no  other  than  the  great  Sagasta,  allowed  the  queen  to 
understand  plainly  that  the  whole  affair  must  be  dropped. 
Maria  Cristina  informed  her  prime  minister  that  her  will 
was  to  be  law  in  the  matter,  and  that  she  was  unwilling 
to  allow  any  sort  of  governmental  interference.  The  mar- 
riage now  precipitated  a  national  crisis,  Sagasta  and  all 
the  members  of  his  cabinet  resigned  their  portfolios  of 
office,  and  the  queen  was  left  to  form  a  new  ministry. 
She  appointed  the  new  members  from  the  ranks  of  the 
conservative  party,  and,  now  without  cabinet  opposition, 
the  marriage  was  celebrated.  Then  the  storm  arose  again: 
there  were  riots  and  disturbances  in  most  of  the  large 
cities;  the  Jesuits,  who  were  made  responsible  for  this 
turn  of  affairs,  were  openly  attacked,  even  in  Madrid.  It 
was  even  claimed  that  the  young  king's  confessor  belonged 
to  the  hated  order,  and  everywhere  there  were  fears  ex- 
pressed that  the  government  might  soon  be  delivered  up  to 
the  Carlists.  This  impression  was  only  increased  when  the 
conservative  ministry  suspended  the  constitutional  guar- 
antees and  assumed  to  rule  with  unlimited  authority.  This 
move  was  simply  taken,  it  appears,  as  a  matter  of  ex- 
treme necessity  under  the  circumstances,  as  the  queen 


398  WOMAN 

and  her  advisers  were  determined  to  keep  the  upper  hand 
and  make  no  concession  under  such  riotous  pressure. 
Finally,  as  the  disorder  was  unabated,  and  it  became  evi- 
dent that  the  cabinet  could  never  gain  public  confidence, 
Sagasta,  by  dint  of  much  persuading,  was  again  induced 
to  become  prime  minister,  and  with  his  return  peace  was 
restored  and  the  revolution  which  was  surely  threatening 
was  averted. 

So  ended  this  memorable  contest  wherein  the  queen 
seemed  almost  willing  to  sacrifice  her  son's  crown  that 
she  might  humor  her  daughter's  whim,  and  a  satisfactory 
explanation  of  the  whole  affair  which  would  be  convincing 
to  all  the  parties  concerned  is  doubtless  difficult  to  make. 
In  the  absence  of  any  political  motives  which  can  be  proved 
or  rightfully  suspected,  it  would  seem  that  Maria  Cristina, 
even  though  a  queen,  had  been  making  a  most  royal  battle 
for  the  idea  that  marriage  should  be  a  matter  of  inclination 
and  not  a  matter  of  compulsion;  and  her  heroic  measures 
to  carry  out  her  ideas  cannot  fail  to  produce  a  great  im- 
pression upon  liberal  Spain,  as  soon  as  the  scare  about  the 
Jesuits  and  the  Carlists  has  had  time  to  subside. 

The  national  amusements  of  Spain,  as  they  affect  the 
whole  people,  may  be  reduced  to  two,  bull-fighting  and 
dancing.  While  women  never  take  part  in  the  contests 
of  the  arena,  they  are  none  the  less  among  the  most  inter- 
ested of  the  spectators,  and  the  Plaza  de  Toros  on  a  Sunday 
is  the  place  to  see  their  wonderfully  brilliant  costumes. 
With  regard  to  Spanish  dancing,  as  a  popular  amusement 
it  is  almost  universal,  and  rarely  are  two  or  three  gathered 
together  but  that  the  sound  of  the  tambourine,  guitar,  and 
castanets  is  heard  and  the  dance  is  in  full  swing.  Much 
has  been  written  about  some  of  these  national  dances,  and 
often  the  idea  is  left  in  the  mind  of  the  reader  that  they  are 
all  very  shocking  and  indecent,  but  this  is  hardly  the  fact. 


THE  WOMEN  OF  MODERN  SPAIN  399 

Certain  dances  are  to  be  seen  in  Spain  to-day,  among  the 
gypsies,  which  have  come  down  practically  unchanged 
from  the  Roman  days,  when  Martial  and  Horace  were  en- 
chanted by  the  graceful  motions  of  the  dancing  girls  of 
their  time;  and  these  are  undoubtedly  suggestive  in  a 
high  degree,  and  are  not  less  objectionable  than  the  more 
widely  known  Oriental  dances  which  have  recently  made 
their  advent  into  the  United  States;  but  these  dances  are 
in  no  way  national  or  common.  They  are  rarely  seen, 
except  in  the  gypsy  quarter  of  Seville,  and  there  they  are 
generally  arranged  for  money-making  purposes.  In  short, 
they  are  no  more  typical  of  Spanish  dances  than  the 
questionable  evolutions  of  the  old  Quadrille  at  the  Moulin 
Rouge  were  representative  of  the  dances  of  the  French 
people,  and  it  is  time  that  the  libel  should  be  stopped. 
The  country  people  and  the  working  classes  dance  with 
the  enjoyment  of  children,  and  generally  they  sing  at  the 
same  time  some  love  song  which  is  unending,  and  some- 
times improvised  as  the  dance  proceeds. 

In  athletic  matters  it  cannot  be  said  that  Spanish  women 
are  very  active,  and  in  this  they  are  somewhat  behind 
their  brothers,  who  have  numerous  games  which  test  their 
skill  and  endurance.  Though  the  bicycle  is  well  known 
now  in  Spain,  the  Spanish  women  have  not  adopted  it 
with  the  zest  which  was  shown  by  the  women  of  France, 
and  it  is  doubtful  if  it  will  ever  be  popular  among  them. 
Horseback  riding  is  a  fashionable  amusement  among  the 
wealthy  city  women,  but  their  attainments  in  this  branch 
of  sport  seem  insignificant  when  compared  to  the  riding  of 
English  and  American  women.  The  Spanish  riding  horse 
is  a  pacer  rather  than  a  trotter,  and  this  cradle-like  motion  is 
certainly  better  suited  to  the  Spanish  women.  Few,  if  any, 
of  them  aspire  to  follow  the  hounds,  a  ditch  or  a  gate  would 
present  difficulties  which  would  be  truly  insurmountable, 


40O  WOMAN 

and  they  never  acquire  the  ease  and  grace  in  this  exercise 
which  are  the  mark  of  an  expert  horsewoman. 

The  dark  beauty  of  the  Spanish  women  has  long  been  a 
favorite  theme,  and  there  is  little  to  say  on  that  subject 
which  has  not  been  said  a  thousand  times  before,  but  no 
account  of  them  would  be  complete  without  some  word  in 
recognition  of  their  many  personal  charms.  In  the  cities, 
the  women,  so  far  as  their  dress  is  concerned,  have  lost 
their  individuality,  as  the  women  of  other  nations  have 
done,  in  their  efforts  to  follow  the  Parisian  styles;  but 
there  is  still  a  certain  charming  simplicity  of  manner 
which  characterizes  the  whole  bearing  of  a  Spanish  lady, 
and  is  quite  free  from  that  affectation  and  studied  deport- 
ment which  are  too  often  considered  as  the  acme  of  good 
breeding.  This  almost  absolute  lack  of  self-consciousness 
often  leads  to  acts  so  naive  that  foreigners  are  often  led 
to  question  their  sense  of  propriety.  But  with  this  nal'vet§ 
and  simplicity  is  joined  a  great  love  for  dress  and  display. 
Madame  Higgin  says  on  this  subject:  "  Spanish  women  are 
great  dressers,  and  the  costumes  seen  at  the  race  meet- 
ings at  the  Hippodrome  and  in  the  Parque  are  elaborately 
French,  and  sometimes  startling.  The  upper  middle  class 
go  to  Santander,  Biarritz,  or  one  of  the  other  fashionable 
watering  places,  and  it  is  said  of  the  ladies  that  they  only 
stop  as  many  days  as  they  can  sport  new  costumes.  If 
they  go  for  a  fortnight,  they  must  have  fifteen  abso- 
lutely new  dresses,  as  they  would  never  think  of  putting 
one  on  a  second  time.  They  take  with  them  immense 
trunks,  such  as  we  generally  associate  with  American 
travellers;  these  are  called  mundos  (worlds) — a  name 
which  one  feels  certain  was  given  by  the  suffering  man 
who  is  expected  to  look  after  them.  In  the  provinces, 
however,  among  the  women  of  the  peasant  class,  Parisian 
bonnets  are  neither  worn  nor  appreciated;  the  good  and 


THE  WOMEN  OF  MODERN  SPAIN  401 

time-honored  customs  in  regard  to  peasant  dress  have  been 
retained,  and  there  rather  than  in  the  cities  is  to  be  seen 
the  pure  type  as  it  has  existed  for  centuries,  unaffected 
and  unalloyed  by  contact  with  the  manners  and  customs 
of  other  nations." 

It  is  difficult  to  say  what  the  condition  of  Spanish  women 
will  be  as  the  years  go  by,  but  it  is  at  least  certain  that 
they  will  be  better  educated  than  they  are  to-day,  and 
better  able  to  understand  the  real  meaning  of  life.  Now 
they  are  often  veritable  children,  who  know  nothing  of 
affairs  at  home  or  of  the  world  abroad,  somewhat  proud  of 
their  manifest  charms  and  ever  ready  for  a  conquest;  but 
with  a  better  mental  training  and  some  enlarged  conception 
of  the  real  and  essential  duties  in  modern  life,  the  unimpor- 
tant things  will  be  gradually  relegated  to  their  proper  posi- 
tion, and  the  whole  nation  will  gain  new  strength  from  an 
ennobled  womanhood. 


DATE  DUE 


CAYLOK.O 


rniNTIOINU    «   A. 


HO  1  1  60  b44  1 

Effinger,  John  Robert,  1369 


Women  of  the  Romance 
countries  / 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A    001  343  270    3 


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